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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25294060">The Journey Home to You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza'>LozaMoza</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Good Parent Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Heavy Angst, I could have just named the fic that!, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Smut, because Geralt and Yennefer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:01:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25294060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LozaMoza/pseuds/LozaMoza</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt made a poor decision and the consequences are compounding for a Witcher still doggedly in love with a certain violet-eyed sorceress. </p><p>It's a journey filled with longing and heartache, misunderstandings and mistakes, working his way back to the woman he loves and the family he lost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Istredd/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Geralt/Triss, Philippa Eilhart/Triss Merigold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Home that Never Was</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'm sure Kovir is a lovely place, but Geralt doesn’t belong there.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The witcher stared at the city slowly coming into view over the cresting waves, leaned his elbows against the salt-worn railing of the old ship, and sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fucking hated Kovir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gray late-fall weather did nothing to lighten his mood. He scowled once more and turned his back to the city and the prospect of having to see her again. Geralt had been avoiding Kovir for the past eight months. With the completion of his contract for the Duchess Anna Henrietta, he had taken to living life in relative comfort in the warm sun and pleasant hills of his vineyard Corvo Bianco. He had never had a home of his own; he had never stayed anywhere long enough to consider one place to be his home beyond Kaer Morhen. Kaer Morhen and Ven…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stopped himself, forced his mind to not say the word. It was lost to him now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes closed for a moment, he did his best to steel himself for inevitable awkward pauses and forced conversations that awaited him in the house Triss lived in. It was her house in every sense of the word. It smelled of baking sweets; it had wide open windows offering grand views of the river; it was filled with overly-soft furniture that offered no support, and  it was an endless parade of beige. He took a deep breath and walked to his small cabin below deck to prepare his things. It would not take long; he brought next to nothing with him. That was all Kovir was to him, next to nothing. His punishment. His curse.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt reached Triss’ home right as a thick and heavy sleet started to fall. His mare Roach shook her head in disgust. Time had not softened her to the cold. He remembered long months on the Path when she weathered the Kaedwenian ranges with a stalwart determination even he envied. That had been years ago. Age and the generous Toussaint climate had spoiled them both and neither had a desire to deal with the cold anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, old girl, we’re almost there,” he said as he patted her now-sopping neck. She snorted in response. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably doesn’t appreciate the ‘old’ jibe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ever since he had taken on that strange contract with the mushrooms, he felt he understood her reactions. “Face it, Roach, we’ve both seen better days.” An aggressive chomp on the bit was the only response he got.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping in front of the heavy oak door, Geralt stopped for a moment. He felt awkward just walking into the house. Of course, at one point that had not been the case. When Triss had first moved in, he had liked the house. She had immediately enchanted it to always smell of baking cakes so he felt welcome whenever he came back from a contract. They would rip off each other’s clothing to fuck in the entryway, on the stairs, anywhere really, and Geralt couldn’t deny those memories were pleasant enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they were never enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind, his damn traitorous mind, would always wander back to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had started in earnest about 3 months into their residence in Kovir. It had happened innocently enough. They had been out for a spring stroll and had walked past a lilac bush in full bloom. The scent had hit him like a battering ram. His arms had felt heavy, his doublet too tight, and he had trouble breathing. Triss had been concerned, urging him to sit on the bench nearby, thinking he had some sort of allergic reaction. When she had seen the lilac bush, she glared at him coldly, then turned and walked back home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dreams had followed shortly after. He would see her, all dark curls and violet eyes, smiling in dappled sunlight, and he would pick her up in his arms and carry her to their bed.They would make love, and Geralt would wake with soiled sheets. Once, it had been worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yennefer!” he called out as he spilled himself inside her. She cupped his cheeks, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat that made her skin glisten in the candlelight, and lay against his chest. “I love you,” he whispered.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And I love you, Witcher,” she replied as she smiled against his skin. He ran his hands through her inky hair and smiled. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He woke.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Triss was staring at him, eyes nearly indifferent. After a long moment she sighed and turned her head. “I’ll never be free of her, will I?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt said nothing. He knew the answer. He had always known the answer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day, he had left for a contract in Oxenfurt. It was a long trek, and he knew it would be some time before he made it back to Kovir. Perhaps it was for the best. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been surprised when she visited him in Toussaint, but she seemed more concerned about returning to Kovir. She made subtle hints that he should as well, that they should work through this seemingly insurmountable barrier between them, and for a week things were good. But nothing had been truly repaired, and within another week, she had left once more for Kovir. That was the only time she had visited Toussaint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been 8 months ago, and that was why he decided to knock. There was no answer. Testing the door, he found it open, and he stepped inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss wasn’t in the study downstairs, so he made his way to the liquor cabinet while he waited for her return. He filled a heavy-bottomed glass tumbler with a decent vodka. He sat down on the beige sofa, his bulk making the padding sink, and threw a quick </span>
  <em>
    <span>igni </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the fireplace. He had planned on just closing his eyes for a moment to recover from the long days at sea when he heard it. A throaty moan. It was faint, he doubted he would even have heard it had it not been for his enhanced senses. Another followed, a little more pronounced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curious, he got up and followed. A few more moans left no doubt that someone is the house was fucking. Maybe a couple servants were having a midday tryst. He couldn’t fault them; he has spent many dreary afternoons passing the hours away in such a manner. But still, the noise was coming from the master bedroom. Screwing in quiet alcoves was one thing, doing it on the bed of your employer quite another. He opened the door, planning to give the lovers an uncomfortable dose of reality. Instead, it was his turn to be surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!!” Triss screamed as she desperately kicked and scrambled around trying to cover her nakedness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Philippa Eilhart, face deep in Triss’ cunt only moments before, leaned back and casually glanced towards Geralt while licking the moisture off her lips. “Witcher….,” she said with a slight leer, “Welcome home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philippa,” Geralt said dryly. The scene looked rather comical, and he had to stifle a laugh. Triss was still frantically trying to regain some composure, suffering from the dual swords of intense humiliation and a lost orgasm. “It’s a pleasure, as always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it certainly isn’t Triss’ pleasure, is it?” she laughed with a huff. Triss turned an even deeper shade of puce; Geralt didn’t think it possible to look so embarrassed. Philippa, however, her eyes long-since healed from Radovid’s crazed torture, looked positively gleeful. “I must say, your timing is rather, hmm, inopportune.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would appear so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, I….” Triss couldn’t finish. She seemed more interested in trying to melt into the bedsheets, currently piling every available cover on top of herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gods Triss, stop acting like a pathetic Aretuza novice caught in the middle of her first dalliance. There’s nothing there Geralt or I haven’t seen before. The only person you’re humiliating is yourself. Besides, once you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all.” She looked directly at Geralt now. “Didn’t someone once tell you the same, Witcher?” Phillipa smirked, a malicious light flashing momentarily in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt scowled. “I believe so,” he quipped dismissively. “Why don’t I meet you two in the study. You need a moment. And Philippa, wipe your face, you’ve thoroughly debauched yourself. Frankly, I’m surprised; all these years of eating pussy and you’re still just making a mess of it.” Geralt closed the door to her curses, allowing himself a small chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire he started earlier was crackling in the hearth, giving off an oddly pleasant ambience to this unpleasant situation. Triss, properly covered and exceedingly contrite, sat next to a clean-faced and still bitter Phillipa. Geralt sat across nursing his drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I supposed my main question should be how long?” He took a long drag of his vodka. It burned on its way down, but he relished the sting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss spoke first, finally finding her voice. “Half a year,” she swallowed. “Since that Advisors Banquet around Feainn.” She glanced up at Geralt’s eyes, waiting to see his reaction. He gave her nothing. There was nothing for him to give her. She twirled a piece of long red hair around her finger and nibbled at the end of it, one of her nervous ticks. “Look Geralt, I feel we aren’t looking for the same thing in our relationship. For example...” She had obviously prepared a speech. He considered letting her finish it, if only to respect the time she had put into it, but decided he just wanted it over. He wasn’t interested in excuses or reasons, he didn’t need those validations from her. He begrudged her nothing. The only thing he did feel in excess was exhaustion, and a huge desire to be done with it. He had felt this way before, though the circumstances were entirely different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree, Triss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, I have never felt that you thought our relationship was a priority… Wait, what did you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I agree,” he repeated as he took another .</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Triss, look at that,” Philippa laughed, her black braids bouncing. “How you agonized over this break-up diatribe when in the end it was completely unnecessary. Obviously, like I told you, the Witcher feels the same. Maybe someday you’ll learn to listen a bit better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt ignored her. “Triss, we have been fooling ourselves long enough, don’t you think? It’s time to end the charade and deal with the pieces we have left.” He spoke with zero emotion. The way he talked to her he might as well have been negotiating a witcher contract.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt drained the last of his vodka. “Can I ask a favor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss perked up. “Yes, of course.” Philippa just rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roach is tired and the Path, well, the Path is fucking miserable from here Toussaint. Can you create a portal large enough for both her and me? I just want to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss blanched at that. “This truly never was your home, was it? The baking cake smell, all of it, it never even mattered?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you looking to hear, Triss? We both know the answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, resignation on her face. “I can’t make that by myself, but with Philippa’s help….” she trailed off, looking pleadingly at the older sorceress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh for the love of…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Phil, please,” Triss sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, yes. Get your damn horse. I haven’t much time, Witcher. Unlike you, some of us have actual problems beyond ‘where’s the next monster to kill’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded and headed quickly to the stables to tack up a surprised Roach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, old girl (another snort). He gently stroked her mane. “Guess what, we’re going home.” Geralt smiled his first real smile that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
  
</p><p>
  <span>If Geralt hated portals, Roach violently opposed them. He finally had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>axii </span>
  </em>
  <span>the poor animal to get her to calm down enough to even step close to the fiery oval. “Farewell, Triss,” he smiled slightly. He hoped that she understood he bore her no ill-will. If anything, he was grateful. Grateful that one of them, finally, had the courage to end this thankless farce.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Farewell, Geralt,” she blinked back a tear. “And Geralt, Geralt I am so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not upset about Philippa, Triss. Truly, I wish you both well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about Philippa, Geralt. I’m talking about before, about </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She was shedding true tears now. “Y...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop, Triss.” Geralt’s voice changed instantly, becoming cold and sharp. He wasn’t willing to talk about her, here, in this place. He refused to even hear her name here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Geralt…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just stop.” She stopped. He walked through the shimmering circle. He didn’t look back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's just the beginning of this ride... ;) </p><p>Also, that mushroom comment is a reference to the games. In the B&amp;W DLC, you can take a quest where you get magic mushrooms and talk to Roach. One of the best quests in the games. Phantom Equines. Look it up! Hilarious!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Witcher's Dance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A study of angst</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Did she die?” the soft voice came from next to him. His mind was still groggy from drink, but as he looked over, he could see a mass of dark brown hair and rounded, pale cheeks. She had a little rosebud mouth and light blue eyes. She was pretty in her own right to be sure, but in the clearer light of the early dawn morning, Geralt could see she looked nothing like her. He turned and shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did who die?” he muttered as he sat up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned on her elbow, her small breasts with their dark nipples poking out from beneath the cream linen sheets. “The woman you kept calling me last night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yen</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She must have died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt flinched slightly, unprepared for her name to come out of the mouth of the prostitute next to him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. “It doesn’t matter,” he groaned as he pulled on his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She must have been really something. The way you whispered her name in my ear, the way you held me. I have never had anyone make love to me like that before.” Geralt clenched his fists as the rage and hurt coursed through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached out, touching his arm softly, running her hands along his skin. “I could be her,” she whispered, hope laced in every word. “I could be her for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled his arm away, not bothering to look at the girl. “No one,” he said in a far-off voice, “could ever be her.” He grabbed his shirt and walked towards the door. “Your money’s on the table.” He stepped out of the whore’s room without looking back. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The ride back to Corvo Bianco was short, but the cool morning air cleared his head. In retrospect, he knew he was too cold with the girl. It wasn’t her fault he was reduced to paying whores who his drink-addled mind told him looked like Yennefer just to have a moment’s peace from the endless longing that plagued his every step. On the Path, it had been easy enough to push thoughts of her aside all those years ago. There was always another contract to fulfill, another monster to hunt down, another crown to make. And then came Ciri, and everything between them had changed, and finally they had found their peace together on their island of apple blossoms and goldfinch songs. Everyday was a gift in that paradise. They would lay under the stars, wrapping their arms around each other for warmth. They would swim naked in the lake, laughing as they splashed water at the other, only to find themselves tangled on the shoreline, making love as the waves lapped at their feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the Hunt stole their paradise from them, burning it to ash as Geralt watched in fury as Yennefer was taken from him. 6 months he had hunted for her, finally finding help from a wayward group of witchers from the Viper School. At last he found Eredin, found Yennefer, and he exchanged his life for hers. He was lost to the Hunt until Ciri saved him and dropped him at Kaer Morhen, the home Witchers of the School of the Wolf. His school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His memories were gone. Timelines and people who mattered most to him were lost. But his brothers had found him, taken him to the ancient Keep, and they had tended to him, along with Triss Merigold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt, of course, knew nothing. He could not remember Ciri, his daughter in all but blood; his Child of Destiny. And he could not remember Yennefer, the woman he loved so completely he gave his soul for hers, the woman who died for him. How was he to know anything different when Triss inferred they were lovers? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his memories returned, when he discovered Yennefer was alive, he left Triss immediately to find her. In the end, it was Yennefer who found him. Ciri was in danger once more and they would need to pull her out of it. They would do it together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet somehow, it had all gone wrong, and he lost the family he had fought the world to gain. Ciri had been heartbroken at Geralt’s actions, and when she left to take her place as Empress of Nilfgaard, she had handed Geralt the sword she had carried for 7 years, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zireal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, along with her desire to be a witcher. Geralt would never forget that moment:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll be fine, you’re a witcher,” he told her as he tried to process everything that was happening. Triss stood next to him, her head turned while she gripped his hand tightly. Yennefer stood farther back, waiting for Ciri to say goodbye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked at him, a sad smile on her face. “Not anymore,” she sighed. She unsheathed her sword and handed it to Geralt. Triss tried to reach out but Ciri backed away. “Don’t,” she said harshly. Triss pulled her hand back. Ciri gave one final look to Geralt, then turned to walk to Yennefer. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ciri,” Geralt said as he followed her, wrenching his hand away from Triss, but Ciri kept walking, her head down, looking like she was fighting tears. Yennefer opened a portal for her, and Ciri stopped at the entrance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good luck on the Path, Geralt,” she said with a forced grin, then turned to walk through.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yennefer, please…” Geralt cried out, no longer trying to hide the desperation in his voice. “You both can’t just leave like this.” She looked at him, her eyes a violet-blue flame, “Farewell, Geralt.” With that, she turned and vanished into the golden oval. He stood there, shoulders shaking, his breath coming in short gasps, as he watched his family leave him for the last time.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Since he and Triss had finally stopped pretending, Geralt had racked his brain trying to think of the exact moment before any hopes of an “ever after” with Yennefer and Ciri were lost. The moment that could have changed the course of this life. The moment before every fell apart around him, and he was left with nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Witcher, welcome home. I hope your trip to Beauclair was pleasant.” Barnabas Basil cut Geralt off from his revelries. It was a relief; nothing good ever came from him chasing down that road of poor decisions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was fine, B.B. Thanks.” He unmounted and handed Roach’s reins to the stable hand nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be needing breakfast, sir?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No thanks, B.B. I’ll be in the training yard.” It had been six months since Geralt had last left Kovir. At first, he considered taking to the Path again, if only to stay one footstep ahead of the regret that was his constant companion. In the end, he decided against it. Rather, he opted to lay out a space for a training yard. Now he devoted most of his time to honing his skills and taking on nearby contracts. At one point, he had thought Corvo Bianco would be the place he could finally hang his sihil, but circumstances did not turn out that way. Still, it was nice to have a bed to come home to, a roof to sleep under, and food to eat that was not half-charred from a campfire’s flame. Marlene’s cooking was a luxury he certainly wasn’t willing to give up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, Geralt did not miss the Path, but he did miss the freedom it gave to leave his problems behind him. Being in one place, living in a home, past memories became part of the very walls. No matter how hard he tried to avoid them, they were always there, waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking off his shirt, he doused his neck with a jug of water and began his daily ritual, his dance. The sihil moved like an extension of his arm, smooth and clean and slicing the air in two with practiced sweeps. It was the constant in his life, the only he had left. His dance was his meditation, his oldest friend, his child, his lover, his everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if he moved fast enough, he could avoid seeing how painful that truth actually was. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oof...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Another Lifetime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The past turns up in unexpected ways</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The Wolven Storm (played by Priscilla "Callonetta") belongs to CDPR. It is a Witcher 3 song. Here's a link if you wish to hear it. It's truly beautiful and is the only thing I really enjoy in the Novigrad quest line. And yes, it's about Geralt and Yennefer and their love. Yennefer actually never hears it in-game, and I always wanted to write a fic with her reaction to it. </p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcFYm0S-zo0</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The banquet had been droning on for nearly 3 hours, and Yennefer was aching for it to be over. Delegations from the Northern Kingdoms had been arriving throughout the past week, and this was the second of many banquets she was expected to attend. She dragged her fork through the entree in front of her. It was Koviri Sea Bass, filled with herbs and drenched in a lemon and leek sauce. She supposed it was probably delicious. She imagined the chefs in the palace had consorted exceptionally hard to ensure the dish accurately represented the kingdom to the north. She didn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She despised Kovir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something wrong with bass, Lady Yennefer?” the delegate from Poviss commented as he stared at her untouched food. Yennefer sat at the high table next to Ciri, an honored place for the Palace Mage and Mother to the Empress, which Ciri had deemed Yennefer as her first official act of Empress when Emhyr had succumbed to the Catriona Plague 11 months past. The delegates were all invited to this place of honor, and it fell to Yennefer to entertain a few with conversation. This was the part of her position she despised the most. Luckily, events of this magnitude were not a common occurrence for the palace, and Yennefer would do what she needed to help her daughter in the role she assumed. Of course she would.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet she drew the line at consuming Koviri cuisine. She’d rather go hungry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is fine, Ambassador Rhashod. Alas I find myself still quite full from the banquet last night.” She smiled a fake grin. As a matter of fact, she was starving. She’d steal some rolls and cheese later. Maybe salmon too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha, Zerrikanian cuisine! What an experience that was!” he laughed. “I did not know that spices not only hurt going in, but also cause pains coming out!” he was howling at his joke. Yennefer grimaced. She hated court.  </span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Ambassador Rhashod continued to gab on as Yennefer tried to count the minutes till she could escape. She caught Ciri’s eye at one point, and her daughter mouthed an “I’m sorry” to her as her eyes flicked quickly to the jabbering man next to her. She didn’t notice the pretty blonde girl in the troubadour’s hat taking a seat with her lute in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now, from far-off Novigrad, presenting the lovely songbird, Callonetta.” The court announcer cried out. A hush fell over the crowd. Yennefer turned from Ciri to glance at the girl, feeling like there was something familiar in her name. She had, over the course of her life, ran into many barbs and troubadours, but this one struck a cord of familiarity to a time Yennefer had been intentionally avoiding for 2 years now. She felt slightly flushed with unease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The troubadour, for her part, stared directly at Yennefer and smiled, strangely knowingly. She began to pluck the strings of her lute.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“These scars long have yearned for your tender caress</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rend my heart open, then your love profess</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice was clear and clean, truly a talented singer, but this was a love song, and Yennefer hated love songs. She began to drone her out, thinking instead of her hunger and where she could find some food that didn’t reek of Kovir.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You flee my dream come the morning</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer’s breath caught. No… please no.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips quivered slightly, any thought of hunger lost to her. This was her. These scars… This was her and Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The wolf I will follow into the storm</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To find your heart, its passion displaced</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>By ire ever growing, hardening into stone</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>This verse must be her point-of-view. She turned her head to hide her eyes. She caught Ciri’s face for just a moment, just long enough to see the look of dread on it. She was silently pleading with Yennefer to look at her, but Yennefer knew she couldn’t. It was all she could do to hang on to the last string of composure she had left. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You flee my dream come the morning</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your scent - berries tart, lilac sweet</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She was furious that the verse mentioned weeping. Furious that she was doing everything she could to hold it back now.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know not if fate would have us live as one</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or if by love's blind chance we've been bound</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The wish I whispered when it all began</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did it forge a love you might never have found?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That wish, that damn wish. And still, even after they had released themselves from it’s hold, it hadn’t mattered. He had told her he loved her, he had embraced her tightly in the cold of that ruined ship in the mountains, and they had been whole with each other. He kissed her, and she knew without any shadow of doubt that she was truly and completely in love with him, and he with her. She had forgotten about the biting frost, wrapped in Geralt’s arms, and thoughts of an “after” rushed into her mind unbidden. Of Ciri safe and free, of her falling into bed with him every night. A pretty dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Novigrad...and all was lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music stopped as applause filled the room. Callonetta didn’t look away from Yennefer though. Rather she stared deeply at her, almost apprising her reactions. Yennefer felt more exposed than she had in the past two years. She needed to get of that hall. She glanced quickly at Ciri to let her know. Ciri nodded, a look of concern flooding her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you leaving, Lady Yennefer. Why, there is still dessert. Povissian Pears in a red wine reduction. I promise you, you will not want to miss this delicacy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d rather choke than eat one of those fucking pears.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “My apologies, Ambassador Rhashod, but I am afraid I am not in the best of health at the moment and wish to retire.” Disappointment flashed across the man’s face, but she ignored it. She grasped Ciri on the shoulder once, then turned to leave. She’d need to walk through the hall to get to her quarters, and for that she cursed. She could feel the damn blonde bard watching her with interest and it made her skin burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nearly made it to the corridor to leave when she heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yenna?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped. That voice. Another lifetime. She turned, and stood face-to-face with her past. Those grey eyes, that even smile, that dark hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you again. You look stunning, as you always do, Yenna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Istredd,” she sighed. “Hello to you, too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>more oof...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Correspondence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yennefer tries to move on, Ciri shuts down, and Priscilla meddles</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More and more little hints to what Geralt did...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Yennefer</b>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved to hold her, but she turned and threw her legs over the bed, grabbing the dress she had draped carefully over the footboard of the heavy oak frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yenna, we’ve been seeing each other for four months now. I’d like you to stay the night with me,” he sighed as he watched her gathering her things, careful not to wrinkle them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I’m not comfortable with that, Val.” In truth, she felt incredibly claustrophobic at the moment. She wanted to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached over and stroked her back. “At least let me hold you for a moment. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood, moving away from him. “I’m not comfortable with that, either. I need to get back. Ciri needs me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t need you at this moment, Yenna. It’s the middle of the night. I’m trying to be patient, I understand this is still - he paused for a moment, trying to think of the word - </span>
  <em>
    <span>difficult </span>
  </em>
  <span>for you. I’ll be as patient as you need me to be. To help you move on from that W…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” she turned, eyes a cold fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, isn’t that what this is about? Him? It’s always been about him,” he replied, the frustration evident on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, I do not want to discuss it, ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yenna, how can we even begin to move forward in our relationship if we don’t try to address…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“EVER, Val. Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, his eyes sad. “I’m willing to wait for you, Yenna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed and turned to look at him, sitting on the bed. His dark hair was tousled slightly, his skin still flush from their interlude earlier. He was an attractive man, and he truly did care for her. He probably loved her; perhaps he had all this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t even thought of him once since Aedd Gynvael. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their couplings had been pleasant enough since he had surprised her at the banquet 4 months ago, and it was nice to have something from her past back in her life again, she supposed. But she had known what true passion was. She had known what it was like to lose yourself in another, for the very world to fall away and the only thing that’s left is you and that person, together. She had known love, so raw and deep that it scourged your very soul. Nothing could ever compare, and the bitterness that she was left threatened to overwhelm her at any moment. It certainly wasn’t Istredd’s fault he wasn’t Geralt. He could be the greatest man alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still wasn’t Geralt. He never could be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, perhaps that’s where she was failing. Perhaps he could be something different. Geralt had broken her more than she thought she could be broken. Perhaps it was a blessing Istredd wasn’t him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri is hosting a birthday banquet for her and I on Belleteyn. Would you like to go with me?” She finished buttoning her dress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Istredd looked up and smiled, a bit sadly, but with a touch of hope as well. “Of course, Yenna. It would be my honor to escort you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She checked her clothing once more to make sure she was put together, then opened a portal to her room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a start at least</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She walked through without looking back.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ciri</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Istredd…,” Ciri smiled slightly as she looked towards Yennefer, who was currently helping her sort invitations. Belleteyn was a month and a half out, and Ciri had insisted that they host a joint birthday celebration. She had hoped that it might at least make the day easier for her. Yennefer always became incredibly taciturn and morose on Belleteyn. She would hide it well in front of others, but Ciri knew her enough to see past the facade. The worst was if there were any sort of fireworks. Yennefer would always turn away from watching those.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri never pried, but the way Yennefer held herself, the way her breath would catch if she saw young lovers stealing a kiss, Ciri knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer had protested; birthday celebrations certainly did not interest her. But Ciri had persisted and eventually, she had begrudgingly conceded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it certainly was unexpected of him to show at that banquet,” Yennefer sighed, slowly dripping the wax on one of the invitations. “He’s an old school friend. We saw each other before....” she cut off. “Anyway, it has been pleasant enough, I suppose He’s escorting me to this party in any event.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I think it’s good. I want you to be happy. I know how hard this has all been.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh daughter, I don’t think this will make me happy, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri looked down. She wondered if her mother would ever recover from that moment. It had been over two years now, and she was colder and harder to reach than ever before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you invite him?” Yennefer said quietly, almost nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know who, Ciri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be an outright lie to say she hadn’t thought about Geralt. Quite the opposite, she thought about him constantly, and at times missed him so much she had to fight the tears from escaping the corners of her eyes. But she wasn’t sure she could see him again, not yet at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, regardless of what transpired in Geralt’s and my relationship, he is still your father and I know he loves you. I’m certain he is missing you greatly. Why, he and Triss…” Yennefer stopped and looked down, her breath catching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, Ciri was rather certain that Geralt and Triss had separated. Toussaint was a province of Nilfgaard, and she had been careful to observe the tax documentations of his vineyard estate Corvo Bianco. The Duchess there, the rather petty Anna Henrietta, had tried to get Geralt removed from his estate over some technicality. As Ciri’s advisors had explained, the real reason for her vindictiveness was that Geralt had failed to save the Duchess’ sister from a vampire. Some more digging led to the discovery that the sister was actually manipulating the vampire into enacting vengeance for her, stemming from her eviction from the palace as a young girl. All in all, Geralt had been the innocent party in this and Ciri immediately stepped in to supersede any authority that the Duchess had on any land owned by the Corvo Bianco Estate. Geralt likely knew none of this, but that land wasn’t officially under control of the Duchess any longer. She wondered if Geralt ever questioned how he was able to live so well in Toussaint after being ostracized by Anna Henrietta.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In any case, none of the legal documents from the estate ever mentioned the name Triss Merigold, and any correspondence she received from Kovir, if it had a mage’s signature, more often than not was signed with both Philippa Eilhart and Triss Merigold’s names. Likely they were together there. She knew they had a long-standing on-and-off relationship. She hoped Philippa was playing the long game to usurp Triss’ position in Kovir. She thought little and less of Philippa, but after what happened, she would root for her over Triss anyday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Ciri was always careful to say none of this to Yennefer. She didn’t want to burden her mother with any of this information. What good would it do to bring up painful memories? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't think that would be a wise choice,” she stated simply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, I do not want you avoiding him because of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems you have forgotten that I walked in on that scene in Novigrad too, Yennefer. That I saw exactly what was happening in your room with Geralt. Shall I remind you?” She could feel her anger start to rise at the memory of it. The hurt. The betrayal. How could he do this to their family?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer sighed and looked down, ignoring Ciri’s taunt. “The choice is yours, Ciri. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood and walked out of the study.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri sat there, holding the envelope, this one addressed to Dandelion in Novigrad. Seeing the address, the Chameleon, she thought of that moment those years back. She was laughing softly with Yennefer as they went to grab what they assumed was a grumpy witcher to have a family meal together, a moment’s respite in the fight with the Hunt, only to come face-to-face with....</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lost in thought, she had signed the invitation to Dandelion herself, something she never did. She sealed the invite quickly and threw it in the pile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, she would not invite Geralt. Let him stay in Toussaint. Let him stay there and remember what he threw away that day.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She snuffed the candle and left.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Priscilla</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dandelion, look, it’s an invitation to Empress Cirilla and Lady Yennefer’s birthday next month, on Belleteyn,” Priscilla called to Dandelion as she read through the correspondence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dandelion walked down the stairs, smiling. “That little sparrow is growing up too fast for my liking. What will she be turning? 26?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Priscilla laughed. “It doesn’t say. It doesn’t mention Lady Yennefer’s age, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“300, give or take a century.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dandelion, you’re horrible,” she giggled. “Besides, even if she was 300, she’s still so lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dandelion sighed and walked over to her, taking the invitation in his hand. “How’d she seem? Yennefer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Priscilla thought for a moment. “Distant, aloof, but when I started playing the song, broken...like she was a moment away from falling to a thousand little pieces.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dandelion nodded. “That’s Geralt. too.” He had just gotten back from a trip to see the Witcher. He had known Geralt for a long time and had never seen the man so defeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to help them. It’s obvious they are still so in love with each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave it, Priscilla. What happened here last, it was bad. No point in opening old wounds. Geralt and Yennefer are the two most stubborn and proud individuals ever born in the entirety of this wretched Continent. Let them move on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But that’s the point, Dandelion. They aren’t moving on. They are just longing for each other. You could drown in the heartache surrounding her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then they are where they’ve always been, longing for each other. They do it well, and they make great ballads.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re wrong. I think they want to be together…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter what we think, Priscilla. Leave it alone, please. Now I’m going to bring up more wine.” He gave her a small kiss and walked downstairs. Priscilla watched him leave, staring at the invite. She knew where Geralt lived, Dandelion had given the address before he left to visit him last. She also had exemplary calligraphy, a skill hounded into her during her studies. She grabbed a quill and pulled out the finest cream linen stationary the Chameleon had. Slowly, very carefully she picked the wax seal off the back of the original envelope, removing all traces of the paper. She began to write.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it was done, she stared at her work. It was convenient Empress Cirilla had signed the invitation, it would feel far more personal to Geralt and that much more believable. She called the letter courier and paid him extra to make haste, to get this delivered to Toussaint immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If this worked, if she could work this miracle, well then maybe all those love ballads weren’t such pretty little stories after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Geralt (one week later)</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Geralt, you’ve received an envelope, and from the seal on the back, I do believe it is royal correspondence.” B.B. was holding the cream linen paper in his hand. Geralt felt his breath catch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p><span>He opened the envelope and threw it aside, focused entirely on the letter in his hands. “It’s an invitation to Ciri and Yen’s birthday in a month,” he smiled widely. “They’ve invited me,” he said in a broken whisper, his hands shaking. He looked at the invitation; Ciri had even signed it. He drew his thumb along the name and the longing for his family nearly choked him.</span><em><span> In a month.</span></em> <em><span>I’ll see them in one month. I'll explain, I'll make it right.</span></em></p><p>
  <span>The smile of hope that Geralt shared as he clutched the invitation was enough to make B.B. turn aside. The moment seemed too personal, somehow.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter, my heart hurts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Birthday Presents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Geralt prepares to see Ciri and Yennefer again by getting them special gifts.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>On a sidenote, I now want to open a shop like I described! And yes, I looked up tree symbolization for this, lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As he watched the final rays of sun give way to the purples and indigos of the evening, he rummaged through his saddlebags once more to confirm the presents for both Ciri and Yennefer were safely packed away. Roach, munching on the nearby spring grass, turned to look at him once then continued her dinner. “I’ll brush you off in a moment, old girl (snort from Roach). Just wanted to make sure they’re safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Ciri’s out first, easiest to find. It was her sword, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zireal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Geralt had of course kept it for her, sharpening it monthly to ensure the blade stayed true in case she ever wanted it back. It was his dream to one day go on a contract with her again, fight with her again like they did before. Nothing like the life and death struggles of Stygga and the Wild Hunt. But something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beauclair boasted some of the best swordsmiths on the Continent, but there was only one he had enough confidence in to handle the blade: Lazare Lafargue. Even the grandmaster had been impressed:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This blade, Master Witcher, is exquisite. I have not seen it’s likeness.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s over 200 years old, forged by the gnomes of Tir Tochair.” Geralt smiled. “It belongs to my daughter.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The grip? Is this ray skin? This is incredibly rare.” Lazare gently turned the weapon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It is. See the tiny bards in the leather? It sticks to the skin far more effectively.” Lazare ran his hands against the grain, feeling the leather fight back slightly. “It has been worn with use. I’d like to get it wrapped with new leather, and add two engravings on the blade, if possible.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What engravings would you like?” Lazare asked, still fascinated by the sword.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want one side to have the emblem of Nilfgaard, The Great Sun, the other the medallion of the School of the Wolf.” Geralt smiled. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The engravings will be fine, but I must warn you, leather like this is far more costly than traditional hides.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The cost doesn’t concern me,” Geralt said as he lay down a bag of heavy coins. “Only time. I need it finished within the week.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course, Master Witcher. Consider it done.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Lazare was true to his word, as Geralt knew he would be, and the sword was perfect, a blade fit for the Empress, and a Witcher girl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He resheathed the weapon and carefully set it aside. The next item he pulled out was smaller, far more delicate, and he unwrapped it from it’s protective cloth with great care. Inside was a beautifully carved box of myrtle wood. He pressed the small silver button on the side and opened the box. Music poured out, soft and clear, and his heart lurched at the song. He closed it gently, thinking of the small shop where he had it made.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had come upon the place quite by accident. It had been last year, and he was heading to Lazare’s shop for new gauntlets when he heard the song. He felt a tinge of familiarity, like he had heard this piece before, and curiosity spurred him to the source. It was a small shop, it’s facade painted a cracked and faded teal, that sold music boxes. One was playing outside of it, and Geralt listened for a moment longer before the memory struck against him, cold and violent like an unexpected storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vengerberg, the Solstice Fair.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The song he danced with her to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He listened for another moment, lost in the memories of the feel of her in his arms, her cheek leaning against his chest, until the pain of them drove him away. He had avoided the area since, but after receiving the invitation, he had known exactly what he wanted to get Yennefer for her birthday:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Steeling himself, Geralt opened the heavy door into the unassuming store. It creaked in protest, but swung open easily enough. He was greeted with the smell of fresh cut wood. He could pick the different species out: oak, cherry, maple, ash, and many others he could not differentiate. A warm-yellow light filtered through the windows, highlighting the numerous dust motes in the air. Slowly he walked in, and finding no one behind the counter, he began to browse. For a shop that sold music boxes, he could find few. Most of the display room was covered in stacks of wood and tiny metal spools with numerous spokes interspersed along them in patterns Geralt did not understand. The boxes he did see, however, were magnificent. The carvings were intricate and detailed, almost lifelike in their accuracy. Geralt opened the lid and saw the spool within, but no music came out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You have to press the silver button on the back of it,” a voice came from behind. Geralt turned to see a small woman, well over 60, her grey hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She had weathered hands, filled with scars. She noticed the Witcher staring at them. “Ah yes,” she sighed as she lifted them. “My hands have paid dearly for my choice of profession. But when one works with wood and saws, one should expect the wood to fight back occasionally.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt smiled. He liked this woman. “Trust me, that is something I can relate to.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sure a witcher can,” she laughed. “I’m Lyanna Rodverick, and this is my shop. As you can see, I make music boxes. Press the button and open it again.” Geralt did as he was told, and once the lid opened, a soft melody filled the air. It was enchanting to hear something so clear come from a box so small.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How does it work?” He asked, amazed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“See the metal spool turning. The spokes are hitting the metal keys, and that ping makes the note. As it turns, the different pings make the song,” she said as she smiled.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“So those spokes are songs?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Exactly correct, Witcher…?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Apologies, Geralt of Rivia.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The White Wolf himself. I’m honored,” Lyanna nodded her head. “So, Witcher Geralt, what brings you to my humble shop.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed, unsure how to explain. “I heard a song a year back at least, and I wanted to buy the music box it was in, but looking around, I have the distinct impression you don’t sell boxes quite like that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s true, I’m not interested in selling a generic box that reproduces some gaudy melody. Rather, I custom make them specifically to the request of the buyer. Do you remember the song?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt took a deep breath. “I do. I heard it at a Solstice Fair in Vengerberg many years back.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm,” she mumbled as she began to wander through the shelves of spools. “Anything else. What was it about.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt closed his eyes, trying to remember the words. “It had a winter theme, and it was about two lovers losing and finding each other.” He grimaced, realizing how poignant that was to his own life. Well, the losing part. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“‘The Ballad of the Snows’. I’m certain that’s it. It’s quite popular in those fairs. Here,” she removed the spool from the box Geralt was holding and replaced it with the new one. Closing the lid and pressing the silver button once more, she opened it again. The melody filled the air and Geralt was taken back to that small dance floor, snow gently falling around them as the crystal flakes landed in her dark curls, and Yennefer sighing happily as she moved closer against his frame. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, that’s it,” he sighed as he closed the box. The shop owner stared knowingly at him for a moment before moving away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Now, Witcher Geralt, you must pick your wood.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt looked around and picked a board next to him. It smelled of pine, a scent he enjoyed and thought of Kaer Morhen when he smelled it. “Here,” he said, handing her the board.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She scoffed. “So you wish to convey moral fortitude?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What? No, I like pines.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Trees have meaning, Witcher Geralt. The pine symbolizes moral fortitude, the oak is strength and knowledge, the cedar is healing, the myrtle represents romantic love…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Myrtle,” Geralt stopped her. “Myrtle wood.” He looked away, embarrassed at his outburst.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lyanna smiled. “As I suspected. Myrtle it shall be.” She walked across the floor and picked up some planks of a hardwood with a slight yellow tint. In the sun, it appeared nearly golden. It would be perfect. “Lastly, your carvings. What would you like carved on the box? Think deeply on this before you answer. The carvings can make or break the intent of the box, Witcher Geralt, whatever that may be of course.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A man and a woman with curled hair dancing close in the snow,” he sighed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg?” Geralt looked up. “I am a purveyor of melodies. You must assume I have heard of the ballads from Master Dandelion? The man is to be you, correct? And she the woman?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Geralt nodded slowly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Your’s is a love story of the ages, Witcher Geralt. It shall be my honor to make this music box for you. Come back in 5 days.” With that, she gathered the items and disappeared to the back.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The carving had been exquisite. She had captured Yennefer and him as they held each other on that snowy night, his hand at the small of her back, her curls fanning out behind her as she leaned into him. He pressed the button and opened the box, listening once again to the ballad within, taking himself once more to that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, he closed the lid and carefully wrapped the box in it’s protective cloth, storing it safely in the saddlebags. He brushed Roach, fed the fire, and finally lay down with his head resting in his arms, staring at the clear sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>2 more days</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as he began to drift to sleep. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be with them in 2 more days</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slept, dreaming of holding them both in his arms again. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And the pain continues. I know, I'm horrible.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Gold and Violet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>They finally meet</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fair warning, this chapter... emotional agony</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Geralt</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Upon arriving in Nilfgaard and renting a room, the first thing Geralt did was bathe. He was determined to look his best before seeing them both. To that end, he had purchased the most expensive doublet he had ever owned. Fortunately, such finery was easy to come by in Beauclair, but Geralt steered away from the frippery that the nobles preferred. Loud and gaudy colors were of no interest to him. His doublet was clean lines and understated elegance, made with black velvet and silver threading. He wondered if Yennefer remembered when she told him she thought he looked quite dashing in black velvet. He had it made especially for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to the barber’s next, requesting they style his hair in his trademark half-pulled back cut, with his beard closely trimmed. She liked the beard too. He thought of that funeral wake for Bran 3 years back, how she ran her hands through it when he finally kissed her again behind that damn tapestry. The memory physically hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> how he missed her. He missed the feel of her lips against his own. He missed her smile against his skin, the way her lips would curl and give her merth away. His fear was that one day he would wake and not remember that feeling. That she would be truly lost to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t focus on that now. Now, he had to make things right with his family. He grabbed the presents, then decided to set Ciri’s back, locking it in the chest the room provided for safekeeping. He was unlikely going to be able to get anywhere near the Empress of Nilfgaard with a sword, even though he was the one who taught her how to use it in the first place. Still, the last thing he needed was to get her present confiscated, so he’d find another time to present it to her. Yennefer’s though? That he could carry with him. He placed it in a leather pouch, hoping for it to work a miracle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt?” At the sound of the familiar voice, Geralt turned to smile. “Geralt, I didn’t expect to see you here. What a welcome surprise!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Dandelion, and yes, it is a welcome surprise.” He smiled as he clapped his arm around his friend. “Hello Priscilla, you look beautiful.” Priscilla blushed slightly, her cheeks matching the color of her pale pink gown. “Will you be performing tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not tonight, I actually performed here about five months past. It was my first time seeing the Empress Cirilla and Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg. They are quite beautiful, no?” She looked at Geralt closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled wistfully. “There are none more beautiful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have any trouble getting in? Priscilla somehow managed to leave our invitation at home! Can you believe it?” Dandelion grumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it was quite an unfortunate mistake,” Prisicilla responded with an odd smirk. “Oh look, there they are.” Geralt turned, and his breath escaped him</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking down the wide staircase, arms linked, were the two women he loved more than anything else in the world. Ciri wore an emerald green gown, picked to accentuate her eyes. Her white and ashen hair was in a complicated updo, and she stood straight and proud, a gold circlet across her forehead. She was never one for frivolities and Geralt wasn’t surprised she has decided on a simple crown to note her station. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At 26, she was a woman grown, and she was truly lovely. His daughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he looked at Yennefer, he felt his body grow hot, his heart start to pound. Words escaped him. She was as luminous as ever, wearing a long black gown studded with diamonds and onyx gems. The candlelight reflected off her gown and her inky curls. He had a near uncontrollable urge to card his fingers through them; to take her into his arms and not let her go until she understood how she was everything to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen…” he whispered, barely audible to even his hearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up suddenly, her body rigid. She glanced around the room, the intensity of her gaze boring through the crowd. Her eyes found his and time stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was them, gold meeting violet, and nothing else mattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt lost all sense of time in her gaze. She held him with that look, and he would have done anything, absolutely anything, she would have asked of him. Her lips quivered slightly and gaze flickered to the man walking up beside her. Geralt turned and his body went cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Istredd...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Was she with him? His eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched Istredd run his hand down her spine and lead her by the small of her back to the front of the banquet hall. She turned to look back at him once, so many emotions in that gaze he couldn’t place them. Watching another man touch her so intimately was enough to make him want to tear the world in two. He gripped the music box in his hand and started towards the front of the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dandelion grabbed his shoulder, stopping him for a moment, concern written across his face. “Geralt, are you sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to see them, Dandelion. I don’t care about anything else anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made his way to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yennefer</b>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t fucking breathe, and Istredd touching her back was infuriating her all the more. She moved away from his hand and walked to Ciri, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards her. “Geralt is </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Why didn’t you tell me you invited him!” she hissed in her ear. “You could have at least prepared me, Ciri”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cir turned to her, confused. “What, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, Yen.” His voice hit her like a battering ram. She felt it thrum around her, through her, waking a part of her she had tried her best to bury for the past 3 years. Her breath stopped short. “Happy Birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri stood shocked, green eyes wide. “Geralt, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped forward and she groaned inwardly. He was wearing black velvet, Of course he was wearing black velvet. Her body felt flush. She could smell him, that unique scent of grass and pine and wood chips and old leather. She closed her eyes to breathe him in. When she opened them, she could see he was doing the same, smelling her perfume as he always did when they were with each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have gifts for both of you. Ciri, your’s is in the room I’m renting: I wasn’t able to bring it here, but I will give it to you later if you like. Yen,” he pulled the music box out of the pouch it was in. The leather was damp with his sweat. “I, well, Happy Birthday, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone was silent. It seemed like the entire court was watching them both. Perhaps they were; the pair was hard to miss, and most have heard the love story of the white-haired witcher and the raven-haired sorceress. Yennefer stepped up slowly and took the golden-hued wooden box from his hands. She sighed softly as she ran her hands along the carved top. It was a man and woman dancing. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled softly. “There’s more. Let me show you.” He gently touched her hand as he directed her fingers to the small button on the back. Yennefer felt a rush of fire alight her entire body at the feel of his skin on hers. Her breath stuttered, just for a moment, but she was certain he heard it. “Press this button and open the lid, you’ll see.” He rubbed her knuckles softly as he moved his hand away, and she nearly moaned. She could feel her heart racing inside her chest. She was certain he heard that as well.  She pressed the button, opened the lid, and music poured out. Soft, so familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vengerberg. The Solstice Fair. The people dancing on the front...it was them</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She shut the lid immediately, her eyes flashing violet at the realization. She was moments away from losing herself in him, and she was furious about that; furious that even after all this time, even after the wish that bound their fates was removed, he could still do this to her. After Novigrad…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Geralt,” she said cooly as she collected herself. “It is a beautiful piece.” She handed the box off to the page next to her who collected the presents people brought forth. She missed it’s smooth sides and warm wood the minute it left her hands. “Please, enjoy the party. If you'll excuse me.” She turned and walked off, headed to the balcony, desperate for air. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Geralt</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The minute his hands touched her, he knew; he knew he would never be able to move on from her. The touch of her cool and electrifying skin left him weak with love for her. He felt more in that one touch than any forgettable romp with Triss or wasted night with some whore these past three years. He loved her, wholly and completely, and he would do whatever it took to get her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he knew Yennefer felt it too. He could hear her heart racing, her breath shiver and gasp when they touched. He could see the want in her gaze, try as she might to hide it from everyone. Geralt knew her too well. He had given his soul </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, given his soul </span>
  <em>
    <span>to </span>
  </em>
  <span>her. She couldn’t hide from him. He saw her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to catch Ciri’s eye, but she was still dealing with party-goers extending their well wishes and handing gifts for both her and Yennefer now. She couldn’t spare him a glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Witcher Geralt,” a cold voice from another lifetime said, walking up beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Istredd,” he responded indifferently. Whatever Istredd and Yennefer were, it didn’t matter at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s over between the two of you, Geralt. Yenna is trying to move on. Let her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled. “Trust me, Istredd. It will never be over between Yen and I. That, I can promise you.” He left the mage to follow Yennefer.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yennefer</b>
</p><p>
  <span>She was grateful to escape Istredd and his endless hoovering to the balcony off the main banquet hall. It was a mistake to invite him; there was nothing there, and there never would be. She knew that years ago, and these past months had just been an attempt at a distraction. In the end, that too had failed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the cold air hit her, it felt like a balm to her heated skin. Just being in the same room as Geralt was enough to set her body on fire. She wanted him in every sense of the word. She wanted him to make love to her, for him to hold her, for him to whisper that he loves her. She wanted to wake up in his arms every morning, her clothes strewn around the room, forgotten and unnecessary. Who cared about wrinkles in a dress when you were in the arms of the man you loved? </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been her dream. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what they were supposed to have all this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he presented the music box to her, she had faltered for a moment. She had tried her best to keep her composure, but she knew he knew. He would have heard her heart pounding inside her chest, her soft sigh as their hands touched. That one touch had alighted her skin more than any unremarkable night her and Istredd had shared over the past four months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the song, the couple dancing in the carving. That was them, it was the Solstice Fair in Vengerberg. It was the first time she heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Novigrad…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had tried, for almost three years now, to block out that painful memory, but her defenses were down, too frayed from the evening's events to prevent it, and it all came rushing back to her. The petty fight that she and Geralt had gotten into. What was it even about? Not jumping into the sewers with him? She couldn’t remember. It was enough to make her want to leave the room, though, leave him for a moment, and she did. She didn’t get far before she found Ciri.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And where are you going in such a huff?” Ciri laughed as Yennefer stormed out of the Chameleon.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Geralt can be such a…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri laughed again. “Ah, yes, trouble in paradise? What is it this time?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yennefer grumped angrily at her. “Apparently I’m expected to jump into sewers with him now. Mucking through sewers. Honestly.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Haven’t you mucked through a lot worse than a sewer for him? He just wants you with him. That’s all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yennefer glared at her. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to know you’re taking his side in this.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri laughed again. “Well, he’s right. Plus, you know this is all because he wants to be with you as much as possible. I heard about what happened...after...after the Hunt and everything. His amnesia? He just wants to spend more time with you, Yennefer. Isn’t that worth a dirty dress?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yennnefer sighed, glaring at her again. “Perhaps....you have a point.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri smirked at her. “Admitting you were wrong so quickly? Age really has smoothed those edges.” Yennefer shot her a glance. “Oh cheer up, even Yennefer of Vengerberg is allowed to be wrong once-in-awhile. Stay out here with me for a bit and cool off. I’m working on levitating these rocks. Look, I’m getting pretty decent,” Ciri focused hard as the five stones in front of her lifted about 3 feet off the ground.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Impressive,” Yennefer replied.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri glowered at her. “I feel like there’s some sarcasm laced in that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yennefer smirked and lifted her hand. The building next to the Chameleon began to lift into the air, taking the foundation with it. The inhabitants started screaming. “Me? Never…” She sat it back down right before the people ran out. Another wave of her hand and the residents stopped, looked around confused, and went about their day. “Relax, darling, they won’t remember a thing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri shook her head and laughed. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I prefer mysterious and unpredictable. Now come on, I’ll show you how to handle a few more stones. You may not have sorceress magic anymore, my dear, but I can still help you control those powers.” She pulled Ciri in for a hug as Ciri wrapped her arms around her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>***</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They stayed out there for nearly an hour and true to Yennefer’s word, Ciri was levitating about 15 stones 5 feet in the air after her help. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Think we should get the grumpy Witcher upstairs to get some food?” Yennefer suggested.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Miss him already?” Ciri chided jokingly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh hush,” she responded, then added “of course I do.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They walked upstairs, smiling as Ciri began to tell Yennefer of another world she had been to where people had metal in their heads -fascinating, tell me more at dinner- when they reached their room. Yennefer opened the door and looked through to grab Geralt.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“G....”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There, on their bed, were Geralt and Triss. Triss was riding Geralt in the height of her ecstasy. As she came down, Geralt reached up to hold her face gently and softly whispered “I love you”. Triss sighed contentedly as she leaned down to kiss him. “And I love you, Witcher.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yennefer couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. She stood there, dumbfounded, while the entirety of her world crashed out from beneath her. Ciri grabbed the door and shut it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yennefer, I…” she whispered, but Yennefer couldn’t focus on anything. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to run. She raced down the stairs, out of that cursed inn, and into the night air. She didn’t even have the wherewithal to make a portal. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She refused to even speak with Geralt after that. He had begged her, he had pleaded that he hadn’t meant it, that it wasn’t anything to him. She ignored him; she saw the way he looked at Triss as he told her he loved her, that was far more than nothing. Once the Hunt was defeated, she had left him for good. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, he had never left her. She craved him as much as she ever had. Her stubborn and stupid heart couldn’t let him go. And so she lingered in this misery, this half-life she was living every day. Unable to forgive him, unable to forget him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Condemned to him, forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart lurked at the sound of her name. She turned slightly to see him, standing near the entrance of the balcony, smiling nervously. He had obviously worked hard on his appearance for the party, his black velvet doublet accentuating the hard muscles she knew were underneath, and she ached to run her fingers along the soft fabric and feel his body pulsing beneath them. To have him hold her close again. “Geralt,” she said in a whisper. Her heartbeat sped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you again,” his voice was shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled sadly. “Likewise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a step towards her. “Ciri seems to be managing well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “Yes, she’s taken to ruling smoother than expected. Of course, Emhyr’s death didn’t hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled softly. “Well, she was never much like her father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer looked at him, pulling his eyes to her own. “Geralt, that man was never her father. You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped, his voice sounding desperate. “Yen, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt lightheaded, her pulse was racing now.. She couldn’t have this conversation, not here. “Geralt please, let’s not start…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No Yen, we have to talk about this. I can’t handle living without you anymore; without Ciri. It’s killing me, Yennefer. It’s fucking killing me. I need you both. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to do this here, Geralt,” she said, her tone sharper. She looked around, anxious to avoid prying eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop trying to shut me out, Yennefer. It was a mistake, that’s all.” His voice had picked up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fury consumed her. “A</span>
  <em>
    <span> mistake</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, a fucking mistake. I said it in the heat of the moment. It didn’t mean a damn thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who else had he said he loves to have it mean nothing? Had all of his I love you’s to her been the same?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She could barely speak, her voice coming from her in a strained whisper. “Who else have you told this </span>
  <em>
    <span>mistake </span>
  </em>
  <span>too, Geralt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had </span>
  <em>
    <span>ENOUGH</span>
  </em>
  <span> of this conversation!” She hissed as she started walking, needing to get away from him, from this farce of a party, and from the hurt and rage that threatened to consume her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned, her eyes a cold blue fire. “Yennefer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked confused, then a slow sense of dread creeped into his features. “Yen, please…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not your </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yen</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore, Geralt.” She turned and left him, standing on the balcony, alone. She didn’t look back. She wouldn’t have made it if she looked back. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Ciri</b>
</p><p>
  <span>She had heard the raised voices, as unnaturally quiet as they were trying to keep themselves. She missed part of the conversation, but she heard the confusion and hurt in Geralt’s voice, and the fury in Yennefer’s. Something didn’t seem right; something was missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt?” she said quietly as she walked up to him. She was certain he had heard her earlier; his enhanced senses missed nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed the sigh of a wretched man. “I was wrong, Ciri, forgetting her wasn’t my greatest fear at all. It was that she would want to forget me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt,” Ciri sighed as she walked up behind him. His shoulders were slumped, his head hung low, and she could see him shaking as he turned away to look over the balcony. She softly placed her hand on his back, closing her eyes as she held it there. “Geralt,” she said again, gentler this time. “Let’s talk.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It hurt me to write. It really did.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Love and Misunderstandings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We finally figure out what the hell happened</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After the pain of the last chapter, it felt good to write this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Yennefer</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignored the well-wishers, the party-goers and anyone else who tried to stop her as she walked to her quarters. She needed to be alone. Seeing him again had upset the precarious balance she had worked so hard to maintain since she arrived in Nilfgaard with Ciri. In truth, she hated it here. She hated Court, it’s politics, the petty squabbles of nobles. Had it not been for Ciri, she would have disappeared somewhere, she did not know where, but somewhere. In truth, she never planned for an “after” without Geralt. How foolishly naive of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now here he was again, spouting that same tired line that it had meant nothing. That he said it in the heat of the moment but he didn’t mean it. And calling her Yen, the name only he could call her. Everytime he said it was another dagger to her heart. She couldn’t bear it any longer. She needed to get out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yenna!” a voice called after her. “Yenna, wait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Istredd. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yenna, you shouldn’t be alone right now,” he said as he rushed up to her. He tried to grab her arm but she pulled it away. “Yenna, what it is. Did he, did he hurt you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed. “Val, I’m sorry, but this - whatever this is - needs to end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped short. “End? Why?” His eyes narrowed. “The Witcher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed, annoyed at the scene playing out. It was a waste of her time. “Val, I told you in Aedd Gynvael that there are some things that one cannot accept if one doesn’t have something of equal value to give. The same holds true now as it did then. I do not love you, Val. I never have, and I never will. I apologize if this is hard to hear, but it’s the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Istredd looked hurt, angry even. She couldn’t blame him. “So what was this then? Just a passing dalliance for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, really. A distraction? An attempt to move on? I never made you believe otherwise. But it doesn’t matter. I will never be able to give you what you want, Val, nor can you me. We both need to stop pretending that will change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a fool for him Yennefer. You’ve given everything for that damn Witcher, and what has it gotten you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought of Geralt, of how deeply they loved each other once. Of their time amongst the apple trees, making love under the sweet smell of blossoms and spring grass. And she thought of Ciri, the daughter Geralt gave her. Of Ellander, of Ebbing. Of loving her so much she would go through any amount of pain to keep her safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything,” she whispered. “It’s gotten me everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Istredd shook his head, his face ripe with pity. “Goodbye, Yenna. We shall not meet again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Farewell, Val,” she said. He walked off, and all she felt was overwhelming relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <span>When she made it to her room, she saw the gifts from the party piled high on the table. She pushed them aside, paying them no heed. Instead, she searched for the only gift she cared about, the music box. Gently, almost reverently, she held it, running her hands along the smooth wood. She stared at the carving for a long time. It was definitely Geralt. There was his smile, his hair slightly pulled back in the style she loved best. And he was holding her. She was dancing with him, her head pressed against his chest, his hand on the small of her back, the other holding her bent arm. Snowflakes flurried around them. It was enchantingly beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she pressed the button on the back, she could nearly feel Geralt’s hand holding hers again. She shivered lightly, imaging his warm and callused hands as they brushed her knuckles, and she felt a familiar heat rising in her belly. She opened the box to listen, and longing clawed at her, raw and needy. She laid down on her bed and let the music carry her back, back to that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vengerberg had always hosted some of the most extravagant Solstice Fairs in the Northern Kingdoms. Not only did the city’s wealth encourage more vendors to attend, but the population genuinely looked forward to the fair and treated it like a citywide celebration.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yennefer herself had always avoided them - displays of such seasonal joviality were never her preference - but this was her first solstice with Geralt, and for the first time she could remember, she had wanted to go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Walking through the vendors, her arm through his, she had to admit the Solstice Fair did have a certain charm. There were booths selling all kinds of trinkets and collectibles, which she casually browsed with no real interest. There were children playing games, desperately trying to win prizes like wooden toys and lollies. She enjoyed watching the Witcher as he looked through the booths - it was obviously a new experience for him - and the thought that she was able to experience this with him for the first time made her breath catch as the warm sensation traveled through her. She smiled at him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on, Geralt, let’s get some food. I’m starving.” She pulled him to food vendors, and he insisted on buying her a cup of warm wine and a buttered roll. As she bit into the roll while he paid for the treats, the melted butter left an iridescent sheen across her lips. She saw Geralt stare intently at her mouth.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, Witcher?” she teased. He pulled her into a hard kiss and she sighed against him, opening for him completely. She had always hated public displays of affection, but in his arms, she was weak with need. He pulled back, clearly shaken. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry. I...I had to. Gods you’re beautiful, Yen.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her lashes fluttered softly as she came down from the heights of that kiss. They stared at each other for a long moment, time all but forgotten.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“AHEM…” an annoyed voice brought them back. “Your wine, sir? And I’d ask you to kindly move along. I’ve got other customers here.” The vendor was certainly unimpressed with their kiss, and Geralt chuckled as he grabbed the cups. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Apologies, friend,” he laughed. As he handed the wine to Yennefer, she burst out laughing too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He certainly didn’t enjoy that,” she smiled.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It wasn’t meant for him to enjoy,” he smirked back, and Yennefer, despite herself, felt a flush across her cheeks. Perhaps it was the wine, but she doubted that.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They continued walking, sipping the warm wine, and Yennefer leaned her head into his shoulder as she sighed happily. He wrapped his arm around her. They were in an open area used for seating, and from nearby a small minstrel group began to play a ballad. They stopped to listen, enjoying the words; it was a song about lovers. Geralt took Yennefer’s cup from her hands and placed it and his own on a nearby seat. He looked at her with that crooked grin of his that always set her heart racing. “Dance with me?” he asked as he extended his hand to her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked around. There was no one dancing, just a few couples sitting at the benches enjoying the music. “But, there’s no one dancing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“At the moment, but when we start dancing, there will be two, so it won’t be as awkward,” he smirked. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Dance with me, Yen.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She allowed him to pull her into his body and sighed as his arm wrapped around her waist. She pushed her cheek tighter against his firm chest and closed her eyes, listening for his heartbeat, the steady rhythm she had come to miss whenever she was away from him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then she heard it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her eyes shot open, unsure if she had accidentally heard his thought or if he had said the words aloud. But he kept dancing, kept swaying her gently with the music, and his eyes were closed as well. She knew it was a thought.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She cherished it all the same.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you too, Witcher,” she thought back, and she closed her eyes once more, lost for the moment in his warm embrace.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As the snow began to fall around them, the couple kept dancing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our first I love you,” she sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had he meant it then?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He had to have meant it then. She had meant it with every fiber of her soul, and even though the times that followed were painful and tumultuous, intermixed with passion and desire until they found their missing piece in Ciri, she had always known she had loved him. And the way he told her how it was killing him without her, without Ciri, she knew he </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>loved her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But why would he have told Triss the same? She couldn’t understand. She couldn’t bare to understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gripped the music box tighter, the tears she’d been fighting so hard to hold at bay finally breaching forth. She left out a choked breath and the sorrow and tears claimed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, Geralt?! WHY???!!!” She screamed into her pillow, too overcome with grief to stop herself. She let the pain wash over her like endless waves, the misery pulling her into the depths. She didn’t bother to fight them. She had been fighting them long enough.  </span>
</p><p>
  <b>CIRI</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ciri,” he sighed sadly as he looked at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, how did you? I mean, why are you here?” She said, sorrow on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got your invitation, and I thought - hoped - that maybe we could all move on. I need her back. I need both of you back. I love you both, so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri felt that old anger at remembering seeing him with Triss, seeing him say he loved her, and forgot about the strangeness of him being there at all. “What did you expect, Geralt? Honestly? How could she get past something like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt shot her a glance. “Godsdammit Ciri, it wasn’t that big of a deal. She threw our relationship away over it. You left me over it. Over being upset about the sewers. But I had apologized, we had made up...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri was furious. “Sewers?! No one cared about the damn sewers, Geralt! But fucking Triss on your bed WAS a big deal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This again, seriously? I had AMNESIA, Ciri! I couldn’t remember you or Yennefer. How the hell was I to know when no one bothered to tell me about my family? How was I to fucking know?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bed, Geralt, I’m talking about Novigrad. We SAW you. We saw you and Triss. We both walked in on her riding your cock and you telling her you loved her. WE SAW IT! So don’t try to lie your way out of it, Geralt. You’re the one who threw your family away!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was silent, his breath coming in short puffs. When he finally spoke, he was quiet. “What are you talking about, Ciri? What the hell are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri pursed her lips and glared at him. “We saw you in your room you shared with Yennefer at the Chameleon. Right before we fought the Wild Hunt, remember? We watched Triss and  you on that bed, and then you told her you loved her and she said she loved you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grabbed her shoulders, the panic evident on his face. “Ciri, WHAT THE FUCK are you talking about!?! That never happened! It never happened!!! That was Yennefer. I was never with Triss. I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri was scared. She had never seen Geralt so panicked, so completely out-of-sorts. “Geralt, Yennefer was with me, outside. You guys got into an argument about something stupid, she was with me for a bit working on controlling my powers, then we came upstairs to get you for dinner together. I remember Yennefer said she missed you. And we walked in on you and Triss…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“NO!!” he yelled, and Ciri jumped back slightly. The guards, standing outside the balcony, immediately stepped in to intercede, but Ciri shooed them off. “Ciri, that’s not what happened. We got in a fight. It was over me being upset about her not jumping down into the sewers with me. It was stupid, I shouldn’t have made a big deal, I know. I went downstairs to grab a drink and cool off and Triss joined me for a moment. We talked, she told me she and I would always be friends and that Yennefer would come around, like she always does, and then she gave me a hug and left. Yennefer walked back in about 5 minutes later, we talked, I apologized and we went upstairs in the room to... Well, you get the damn picture. I was never with Triss. I talked to her for maybe 5 minutes before she left to deal with Philippa or something. Yennefer came back right after…” Geralt trailed off, his voice hoarse. “No,” he whispered. “Please no, please no...fuck please NO, NO FUCK NO!!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri stood silent for a moment, realization coming over her. “I thought witchers could throw off incantations,” she whispered</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The drink.” he said, his voice strained. “It must have been in the drink. When she hugged me; she must have done it then and I didn’t even notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could she make herself look like Yennefer? I mean, has she ever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She used magic to get me to fuck her before you were even at Kaer Morhen as a child, and she abused my amnesia for a fucking year, stealing memories of Yennefer and me and using them against me, to make me think she was the woman I was in love with. So you tell me Ciri, think enchanting a drink to make me think she’s Yennefer is something beyond the pale for her?!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he screamed. He sounded like a wounded animal, rage and fury exploding from him like a dying star. “FUUUCCCCKKKK!!!!!!!!!  My family! My fucking family!!” He balled his fists and pounded the edge of the railing before crumpling to his knees. “My family…she took my family...” he whispered. She could hear his voice cracking, knew he was fighting back sobs. She walked up slowly behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, Geralt,” she said softly as she knelt down beside him, running her hand softly along his shoulder. “I’m here now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to her and embraced her, holding onto her like she was the only thing that kept him from the abyss that threatened to destroy him. He embraced her and he let the sobs consume him. She held onto him too, promising him that he wouldn’t be alone anymore; that no matter what, she would be with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cried until there was nothing left. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>GERALT</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise you, Geralt, I promise you I’ll make her understand,” she said, holding his hand tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Ciri. She can’t..she can’t keep thinking I did that to her. That I would ever do that. I love her so much, I can’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Geralt, I promise you I know. I’ll make her see.” She pulled her hand from his and cupped his face gently. “Hey, Witcher, look at me.” He looked up, eyes watery. “I won’t let you down, ok.” She pulled his forehead to hers. “I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you, Witcher Girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri sniffed softly, fighting back her own tears, relishing being in her father’s arms once more. “I missed you too, so much. So very much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood like that for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gently pulled away and cleared his throat. “I, I have a present for you, but it’s not here. I didn’t want to get it confiscated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled. “Now what kind of present runs the risk of being confiscated?” He smirked in return. “Don’t give it to me yet, Geralt. I don’t want it till we can use it together. Corvo Bianco, five days. Ride fast, Witcher.” With that, she grasped him tightly once more and walked into the hall.  She turned. “And if you can get there faster, do it.” She winked and walked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt did his best to collect himself, to try to find his breath once more. When he walked back into the party, Dandelion was there, concern still clear on his face. “Geralt! Geralt are you ok? We heard the yelling and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt leaned in and gave Dandelion a tight hug. “Friend,” he said as he pulled away. “I’m better than I’ve been in years. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you just got here! Have a drink with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry Dandelion, I have a Witcher Girl to beat to Toussaint, and she can portal through space and time.” He left the party, feeling true hope for the first time since that wretched day in Novigrad. Ciri still loved him, and she would talk to Yennefer. He would have his family back. She would be his Yen again. Please,</span>
  <em>
    <span> please</span>
  </em>
  <span> let her understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It usually took 5 days ride to get to Corvo Bianco. He planned to do it 4. He would leave tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>CIRI</b>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled open the door of Yennefer’s quarters without knocking and found her mother still clutching the music box Geralt had given her, her pillow stained with her tears. She was asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yennefer,” she said, shaking her awake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri?” Yennefer muttered as she sat up. “Ciri please, I can’t right now, I just don’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can and you will. Mamma,” she said as she grasped her shoulders. “We need to talk. Now.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Solstice Fair is based on the Christmas Markets in Europe, particularly this one my husband and I visited in Germany. I love them so much.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Something More</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's only one real way to bring the three back together...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Something More is in reference to canon. Ciri is the "something more" for Geralt and Yennefer.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Yennefer</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked desperate</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Yennefer thought as she stared at the girl. She rubbed her swollen eyes. “Ciri, what’s going on? Please, I just want to be alone right now.” She felt the music box in her hand and tried to push it under the pillow to hide it from her daughter’s eyes. It didn’t work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri’s eyes flashed to the box and back to her. “Who do you think you’re fooling, Yennefer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still in love with him. You need to stop lying to yourself. And he’s in love with you, too. So much.” Ciri smiled softly as she thought of Geralt, of the longing in his eyes when he talked of Yennefer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer stiffened. “Ciri, I don’t want to have this discussion. Not again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was Triss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That name, a rush of anger. “Ciri, enough! I told you, I don’t want to do this right now.” She moved to get off her bed, feeling fury and hurt all at once, but Ciri grabbed her arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Yennefer, you need to listen to me. That day, it’s not what you think. Triss…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I KNOW it was Triss! I remember it, Ciri. I see it every godsdamn night, over and over again. I can’t escape it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri gripped her arm tighter. “No, stop talking and listen, Mamma. Triss enchanted his drink when he went downstairs to cool off after your argument. When you were outside with me. Remember? He thought it was you he was with in your room. He had no idea it was Triss until now. He thought he was saying</span>
  <em>
    <span> I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like the air was sucked out of the room. It was cold, lifeless.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you saying?” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That he never cheated on you that day. He thought he was with you the entire time, Yennefer. That’s why he said that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes. 3 years, 3 </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>years, for what? For a farewell romp for Triss? She had known the chestnut-haired sorceress for a long time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too long</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Triss had no qualms using magic and abusing chance when it came to Geralt. Enchanting a drink to have one final fuck was definitely within her wheelhouse. She also wasn’t a master tactician capable of executing flawless plans. Yennefer knew that without Geralt’s help, Triss never would have gotten the mages out of Novigrad. She certainly didn’t have the foresight to plan the timing of her bedding Geralt with Yennefer and Ciri walking in. It was nothing more than a happy coincidence, one that Triss picked up and ran away with, leaving Yennefer to pick up the pieces. Yes, it was certainly possible this had all been because of Triss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Geralt still went to Kovir. He still went with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say something,” Ciri whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer looked at her, unsure of what to say even. She had spent the past 3 years trying to forget him, to move on from her entanglement with Geralt of Rivia. Granted, she had done a pisspoor job at that, as much as she hated to admit it to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He still left with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. He did, after we refused to even speak with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying, Ciri?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri shook her head sadly.“Isn’t it obvious? All of this could have been avoided with a simple discussion. Instead you both wallowed in pain and anger. For 3 years he thought you left him over a disagreement about the sewers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>sewers</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” The idea sounded so asinine she could hardly comprehend it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes the sewers, because according to him, you guys got in an argument, made up, and then you wouldn’t speak with him again. Don’t you see how absurd this whole situation is?! So he thought you were still upset about that fight. And then of course there was Triss, ready to comfort him, and like the fool that he can be, he took the bait and left with her. They’re not together, just so you know. They were hardly ever together. He was never able to think about anyone other than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer turned to her, her lips quivering slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But he still went with her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Ciri, please, I don’t want to listen to this anymore. What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri continued anyway. “Your willful stubbornness and pride had always stood in the way of your happiness, Yennefer. I had to fake a fainting spell at that farm by Loxia just to get you two to talk to each other. That whole ride to Thanedd, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> how much you wanted to be with him, it’s so bloody obvious, and you absolutely refused to do anything about it. And he’s just as stupid and stubborn as you. I don’t understand it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer looked away, fighting back more tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to continue pretending to yourself, you’re more than welcome. I, however, am going to him.” Ciri stood up and walked to the door. “I know you don’t believe this. I know you’ve never truly believed this, deep down, in that part of you you want to keep hidden from everyone, including yourself. But you deserve some happiness too, Yennefer. When are you going to finally realize that?” She walked out and closed the door behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Geralt</b>
</p><p>
  <span>As Roach crested the final hill and Corvo Bianco came into view, he patted the old mare’s neck. “Roach, you put Kelipe to shame. Thank you, girl.” He had been desperate to get to home as fast as possible, to the point where he opted to try to have a heart-to-heart with the horse, begging her to push herself, that this was for Ciri. It took 5 days for them to travel to Nilfgaard, just under 4 to get back. He would make sure Roach would be spoiled for a month for such a feat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dropped her off with the stablehand after one more thank you, grabbed Zireal, then made his way to the house. B.B. raced up to him, a look of dismay on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Witcher, thank goodness you’re home. Some unknown individual barged into the residence just this morning and has refused to leave. They haven’t even done me the courtesy of an introduction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled and gripped Zireal tighter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Thank you B.B., I’ll take it from here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was in the front room, running her hands along the grandmaster witcher armor he had on display in the hall. She lingered in front of the cat gear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“School of the Cat,” he smiled as he walked up to her. She turned to him, a grin on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen any of your armor so detailed before,” she replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never had a smith like Lafargue before. And speaking of,” he lifted the sword and handed it to her. “Happy Birthday, Ciri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes grew wide and she grinned from ear-to-ear. Geralt caught his breath; how he missed her smile. She gently ran her fingertips along the wrap. “Zireal,” she whispered. She gripped the hilt tightly. “You had it rewrapped. I haven’t felt it stick to my skin like this in…” she stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” he said. “And added some new engravings.” She pulled the sword out of the scabbard slowly and looked directly beneath the guard. There on one side was the Great Sun, the other the School of the Wolf insignia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, it’s so perfect. I, well, I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.” She looked up at him with tears in the corner of her eyes. “How much I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt wrapped his arms around her. “I love you, Ciri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They held each other for a moment before they pulled apart. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not long enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Geralt thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri motioned her head to the main table. “I see you found a way to get a little bit of her in here, too.” Geralt didn’t have to look to know what she was referring to: the vase of lilacs on the table. The estate boasted numerous lilac bushes, and when they were in bloom, it was a standing rule that fresh flowers be present in the house. His workers thought he an adamant floral enthusiast but really, it was the closest he could get to feeling her with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you talk to her? Did she say anything?” He hated how desperate he sounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri looked away for a moment before looking at his eyes again. “I did, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders slumped and he knew; he knew it was a lost cause. “I have you back,” he said with a forced grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do. And give her time, Geralt. You know her; she’ll come around,” Ciri said as she rested her hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do know her, Ciri. I know when she’s reached her limit.” Geralt sighed. He knew it was a longshot, this attempt to get her back into his life. He had tried to prepare himself for losing hope of an ending with her, it was hardly unexpected after her last words to him. But still, he didn’t realize it could hurt this fucking bad. Yet against all odds, Ciri was with him, and that was more than he could have dreamed of for years</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, Geralt. Don’t give up. She loves you; I promise you she does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes love isn’t enough, Ciri. Sometimes something more is needed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She touched his cheek and smiled. “ Well, it’s lucky for you I’m here then, isn't it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And despite himself, despite the renewed pain of losing Yennefer yet again, Geralt deigned a small grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think you remember how to use it?” he said as he gestured to her sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m offended, Geralt. What do you think I do in my spare time?” He laughed. Of course she would practice swordplay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me, Witcher Girl. There are some giant centipedes in the neighboring field I’ve been meaning to clear. No time like the present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get ready to be humiliated, old man.” She winked and rushed out of the house, sword in hand, and Geralt chuckled as he chased after her. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, you sure you’re up for this?” Geralt said as he watched the centipedes dive out from the ground of the soft earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am,” she said as she brandished Zireal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, these centipedes are serious. We see two, but sometimes one is hidden in the ground. They come up right beneath you. It’s dangerous as hell and I don’t want to risk anything happening to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop treating me like a child, Geralt. I know how to fight monsters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to make sure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said stop,” she said with a glare that reminded him so much of Yennefer he nearly laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, but if it gets too much, I want you to back out. You got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, but I swear, you worry more than mother,” she grumbled. The way she so casually referred to Yennefer as mother brought back more memories than Geralt was ready for. Of Belleteyn and her longing for a child, of Hirundum and them rushing to save Ciri, of Stygga and their reunion, of Yennefer calling her “our little witcher.”</span>
  <em>
    <span> At least I gave her Ciri</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At least I could do that for her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, hello? Where’d you go? You ready for this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go.” They made their way to the centipedes. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood. Blood was everywhere, and he couldn’t stop it. Ciri had blacked out from the fall, the vicious and highly toxic mouth pieces of the centipede had luckily missed her, but she had not been prepared to fly through the air when the damn third centipede surfaced beneath her. She had hit her head - hard - with the fall, gashing her left brow open. The cut didn’t look deep, but the blood was everywhere, running along her face and down her neck. Geralt groaned, trying to stop the flow with his shirt he had ripped off. If he could stop the blood, he could at least stitch up the wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok, Ciri, I’m here,” he whispered in a broken voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t notice the small white jewel on the delicate chain around her neck flash bright red when her blood touched it. Once, twice, three times....</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A  brilliant flash of gold appeared before him and Geralt immediately knew it was a portal. He shouldn’t have been surprised who stepped out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that still, after all these years, she never failed to take his breath away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri!” Yennefer cried as she rushed out and surveyed the scene before her: Half of a dead centipede was strewn across the grass, two more dead a bit further off. Ciri was unconscious, and near her was a shirtless Geralt trying desperately to stem the river of blood coming from a gash on her forehead. She ran to Ciri and whispered a short spell; the wound closed instantly. Ciri moaned. She looked at Geralt, her eyes a purple fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, what happened?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Centipedes are seriously some of my favorite monsters in W3. They're fun to fight.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. It's Only Ever Been You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yeah, this one is just gonna be labeled NSFW (hint, hint)</p><p>Also, Geralt learns he owes someone an apology. It's not who you think. ;)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>See, the best part about suffering through the angst is fixing it in the end. Here's the chapter you all have been waiting for. Enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Geralt</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you both already, I’m FINE. If anything, the only thing I’m feeling is annoyed. Stop fussing over me,” Ciri grumbled as Yennefer once again checked her over for any additional injuries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough, Ciri. You were foolish enough to go after a giant centipede, even after Geralt warned you they’re more delvilish then they seem, and this is your penance. You did nothing but whine and moan about that necklace. Isn’t it convenient that I insisted upon it anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt leaned against the wall of the master bedroom and smiled. Ciri was safe, thank the gods, and for the first time since he moved him, Corvo Bianco felt like a home. Ciri and Yennefer were inside with him. Regardless of the circumstance that brought them all there, he wanted to cherish every moment of it. He knew how fleeting it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer looked over to him. “Is there anything else I should be looking for? I don’t know these monsters as well as your usual kind...from before.” Geralt knew what she was referring to. When they lived together in Vengerberg, she would always fuss over him when he came back from a contract. She despised his potions, certain they would one day be the death of him, and she’d let him know, repeatedly. She would examine him all over, looking for any cut or scrap that could turn toxic. She even studied old bestiaries to learn as much as she could about the creatures he’d face in the northern wilds. At the time, it had annoyed him to have her needling over him like that. He didn’t realize how much more painful her indifference would have been then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Venomous mandibles, but it looks like Ciri managed to avoid them. The cut to her brow was from her fall, not the centipede. I dispatched it before it could harm her further. “Yen…,” he sighed sadly for a moment. “I’m sorry, Yennefer - at this, Yennefer winced slightly - is she alright? She hit her head hard with that fall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She seems fine. The bleeding looked a lot worse than it was. Head wounds tend to bleed intensely. I’m more concerned about the possibility of a concussion.” She looked at him, almost nervous. “She shouldn’t be magically moved right now, just in case she does have one. Can I,” she paused for a moment. “Can we...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay here,” he said abruptly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stay with me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “You both can have this bedroom. I’ll sleep upstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve a guest bedroom too, Geralt?” Yennefer forced a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I dreamed of a home, once,” he said sadly back to her. Yennefer turned her head quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri sat there awkwardly, staring at her parents, and sighed loudly while rolling back her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pathetic,” she muttered. Yennefer shot her an angry glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt cleared his throat. “I’ll get B.B. to help set everything up, and Marlene to make more food for dinner tonight. You’re both welcome here as long as you need.” He stared at Yennefer. “You know that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer looked at him, eyes far away, and tried to smile. “Thank you, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yennefer</b>
</p><p>
  <span>This house. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> house. She loved everything about it. The colors were warm, something so different from the starkness she was used to in Nilfgaard that she felt she suddenly craved it and wanted to wrap herself in them. It was rustic, true, but the kind of rustic that makes one feel at home. It was tastefully furnished, nothing gaudy or pretentious, and it was him. She smiled at the armor on display.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I’d expand it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Add a reading area for me with plenty of greenery and light, a large weapon and armor display area for him. I’d move the master bedroom upstairs, add a balcony so we could enjoy the views of the vineyard together. I’d.</span>
  </em>
  <span>..she stopped herself. What the hell was she doing? She was a guest; she was only a guest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was surprised at how much that reality hurt. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Marlene, it turned out, was once a spotted wight turned grateful chef, and she was a master at her art. Yennefer could not believe that Geralt, the man she had known to eat gruesomely-charred game meat, if he had anything at all, was now served meals nightly by his personal chef. It made sense, looking him over. She remembered times when he’d come to her after long months on the Path, all skin and hard muscle, and it would frighten her, to see displayed on his body how brutal his time on the Path had been. When the necklace informed her of Ciri’s injury and she portaled in, she couldn’t help but be taken aback by Geralt. She had never seen his body so well taken care of. He had a layer of flesh on him that was new, and it made her flush with heat for him when she thought about it now. To see he was so healthy and so fit; it was a relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dessert,” Marlene smiled as she walked out. “I wanted to make something special for Master Geralt, to celebrate his family finally coming home.” She carried out what looked to Yennefer to be the most beautiful cake she had ever seen. Thick dollops of custard were layered between sheets of puff-pastry so thin they looked like they could snap with a mere breath. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>mille-feuille </span>
  </em>
  <span>is a long-standing tradition in my family to welcome a special homecoming. I only thought it appropriate to prepare it today. Please enjoy.” She sat the cake down before them while B.B. cleared their dishware and provided dessert plates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks Marlene, B.B.,” Geralt said as he began to cut through the cake. Ciri’s eyes widened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want a piece,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still not certain about you being out of bed,” Yennefer responded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you I’m fine. And I’m hungry.” Ciri reached for the plate that Geralt handed to her and smiled widely. “Thank you, Geralt.” She took a bite and her eyes shot open. “Fucking hells, Geralt, this is incredible! It’s better than any chef at the palace could make.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed. “She’d had multiple lifetimes to practice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe she was a spotted wight. Uncle Vesemir mentioned them once and said they had all died out.” Ciri shoved another forkful of cake into her mouth and continued. “Like a century ago at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, good gods, manners!” Yennefer chided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just Geralt,” she laughed, and Geralt laughed too. Yennefer rolled her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t wrong, Marlene was cursed to be a wight. I had to choose to break it or kill her. Luckily for all of us, I choose the former.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll say,” said Ciri as she gobbled another bite, spitting crumbs on the plate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer groaned and put her face in her hands. “Is it too much to ask that you act like the Empress of Nilfgaard?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In this house, yes.” Ciri stated matter-of-factly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt smiled widely. “She makes the rules, Yennefer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, doing her best to ignore how much she hated the sound of her full name on his lips when he spoke it to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, have a piece of cake,” he smiled as he handed her a plate. Their hands touched once more as she took it from him, and she felt an electric heat course through her. She took a bite and Ciri was right, it was incredible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Retirement suits you, Geralt.” She worked up another false smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not exactly what I had expected, but I am grateful for a roof over my head.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to see that you’re at least eating well for once,” she smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never did like my cooking,” he laughed softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Witcher, I would hardly call that cooking. Why, I remember you once trying to serve us a half raw portion of rabbit. It was that time you somehow convinced me to join you on a contract outside of Vengerberg.” Yennefer stopped. She hadn’t called him his nickname in so long, but it felt wonderful on her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt merely smiled sadly and looked down. “I remember that, too,” he whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri just looked at them both and frowned. </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to him,” Ciri urged. “Stop being so damn stubborn for once in your life.” They were laying in Geralt’s bed, attempting to fall asleep, and failing completely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s over, Ciri. Stop pushing something that isn’t there.” Yennefer turned to bury her face in the pillow. She could smell him, the scent she could pick out from anywhere. She fought back the tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a fool, Yennefer,” Ciri sighed as she turned on her side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer said nothing, holding Geralt’s pillow to her cheek as she willed herself not to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong> ***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>“You promise you’ll visit me soon?” He smiled sheepishly as he held Ciri.They were standing directly outside the entrance to his home. Workers were already cleaning up after their stay, changing sheets and scoring the breakfast cookware.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I will. I need to redeem myself after that stupid centipede. And I obviously am out of practice with Zireal. She and I need to be reacquainted,” she patted the sword across her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re sure you’re feeling well enough to travel. No dizziness? No double vision?” He held her a bit tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost like you’re trying to invent a reason for me to stay,” Ciri laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know me too well, Witcher Girl.” He kissed her forehead and let her go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise you I’m fine, Geralt. And I also promise I’ll be back here soon. Trust me, ok.” She looked at Yennefer for a moment and shook her head. “This is something I can guarantee, at least.” She stepped back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked at Yennefer and she saw his lips were quivering slightly. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She felt sick. “Safe travels, Yennefer,” he said in a choked breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was shaking, but she forced herself to be still. “Thank you for letting us stay the night, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you don’t need to thank me for that, Yennefer.” She winced again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallowed. “Take care of yourself, Geralt.” He nodded slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned, her voice so painful in her throat she could hardly breathe. She opened the portal and she and Ciri stepped through, leaving him alone, again.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>CIRI</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>As they stepped out of the portal in the Nilfgaardian throne room, Ciri walked out without even looking at Yennefer. The pages rushed up to help her as her advisors ran to her to give her the reports of the events she had missed during her trip to Toussaint. “Yennefer,” she sighed as she saw the report from the Embassy in Novigrad. “Yennefer, do you have any idea what Ambassador Adavend means by this note…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“GODSDAMMIT!!!!” Yennefer screamed. Ciri started and turned to see her mother open another portal and disappear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri smirked, a large smile forming on her face. “About fucking time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>GERALT</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He had held it together while he watched them leave, but as soon as the golden portal closed, he began to gasp for air. He ripped the buttons off his collar in a futile attempt to catch his breath. Geralt was certain he was going to be sick, and nearly bent in the bushes to dry-heave. As he staggered into the house, he gripped the corners of the table to steady himself. Watching them go was one of the most painful things he could remember doing. He’d gratefuly face torture with Foltest again as opposed to living in this fucking agony.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I have Ciri back; I have her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But Yennefer…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing her in his home, he knew he’d never be whole without her. For the first time in 3 years, Corvo Bianco had felt like a home. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy as dinner the night before. He tried to fight the tears; his fists clenched the table tighter. He was certain he could break it if he squeezed a bit harder. Perhaps that would help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front door flew open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHY?!” Yennefer screamed, and he turned immediately, She was there, standing before him, her eyes blazing fiery purple and cold blue flames. “WHY did you go to Kovir with her?! Why didn’t you talk to me? Make me understand?! WHY??!!” She was frantic. He could hear her heart pounding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I TRIED!” he fired back, his heart pounding in his chest in time with hers. “I tried to tell you, so many times Yennefer, but you wouldn’t listen to me. You refused to even listen to one thing I had to say! WHY?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you told her you LOVED HER!” She retorted back, and he could see the tears at the corner of her eyes. “And after, you went with HER!! After she did that, you went with her!!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know it was HER, Yennefer! I thought it was you. Do you think I would ever tell anyone other than you that I love them? EVER?! It’s always been you. It will always be you.” His skin felt hot. “But you left me! You both left me, and she was there, and what the fuck did it matter anymore if it wasn’t you? And I hated it, I hated every godsdamn minute of that bullshit.” He took a step closer to her. “She doesn’t matter, Yennefer, she never did. The only woman who ever mattered a thing to me is you. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer was silent for a moment, breathing quickly, her body shaking. “Oh Geralt, what have we done?” she whispered, and with another shallow breath, she threw herself in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips found hers and crashed into them. She responded with equal fervor, running her hands through his hair and pulling him close. They were both gasping for air against the other’s mouths, and Geralt moved his hands down her back to her rear to lift her against him. He groaned as her legs wrapped around his lower waist. He could feel the heat coming off her, and it made him want everything from her at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yennefer,” he whispered as he pulled away from her lips for a moment. “Yennefer, I…” but she put a finger to his lips and stopped him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen,” she sighed against his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you weren’t my Yen anymore?” he replied, and even at this moment, with her in his arms, that idea caused his breath to catch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled his face to hers, cupping his cheeks lightly as she looked him in the eyes. “Geralt, I’ve been your Yen since Rinde. I will always be your Yen.” She kissed him softly and he felt his heart lurch. “I love you, Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waited for a moment, certain this was the cruelest of dreams. He waited for the bottom drop out, for him to be once again alone with nothing but his memories to remind him of what he lost. But she was real. She was real, and in his arms, and it was more fucking perfect than he could have even begun to imagine. “I love you, Yen.  Gods I fucking love you.” His voice was hoarse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Show me,” she sighed as she began to kiss down his neck. He carried her into the bedroom and slammed the door shut, pulling his shirt over his head while he laid her on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer reached for him, running her hands along his biceps, his chest, and Geralt did everything he could to calm himself down and control his breathing. He wanted this to last, but the feel of her, the scent of her...he knew he needed to slow it down. He released a shaking breath and she reached up, her hands to his face, and smiled softly at him. He looked at her for a moment, then buried his face in her curls, breathing in the lilacs and gooseberries he had yearned for. As he kissed her neck, he heard her moan softly and he gently bit her - he knew she loved that - which made her gasp. She lifted her hand to do his favorite spell of hers, making her clothing disappear, but he stopped her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen, I’ve been dreaming of you for 3 years. Let me do it. Let me relish every piece I take off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, a tear falling lightly from her eye. She kissed him softly. “Go on then, Witcher,” she whispered, and he grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>He started with her shirt, a soft, billowy white that felt like fine silk in his hands. The front had little onyx buttons, which he undid carefully, making sure not to pull the fabric. He kissed down her collarbone as he worked the buttons, her mewling softly beneath him, and once the final one was open, he untucked it from her dark charcoal skirt and she sat up lightly for him to take her arms out. She lay back down and he groaned, caught somewhere between love and lust, as he looked at her chest. The white brasserie was delicate, tiny lace patterns revealing hints of the creamy skin underneath, and the jolt that went to his cock forced him to steady himself. His fingers ghosted over her nipples and her breath caught. He took one in his mouth, nipping lightly, and watched as her skin reacted to his touch, tiny bumps appearing along her breasts and sternum. He soothed them with his mouth as his hands traveled down the smooth expanse of her belly to the flare of her hips. He remembered when they were first together and he would fret that his rough hands would hurt her. That his callouses would somehow rasp against her skin, leaving her raw and injured. He needn’t have worried. He later learned she craved his calloused hands as much as he ached for her smooth skin. They were opposites, but opposites that attracted the other, that made the whole stronger. He would never be complete without her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He focused on the tiny pearl buttons on the side of her skirt next, careful not to snag them, and she lifted her hips as he pulled the skirt away. As he stared at her, she reached down to palm his cock, so hard it was to the point of pain, but he pushed her hand away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen,” he said, his voice strained. “I want this to last and I...” he hesitated, a touch embarrassed. “I won’t if you, if you do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled, moving her hand away from him and carding it through his hair. “Don’t let me stop you, darling,” she smirked as she lifted her hips into him. He began kissing her belly, focusing on the skin around her navel, as he moved lower. He got to the line of her lingerie and smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt of Rivia, don’t you dare,” Yennefer stopped him. She knew how much he loved ripping off her delicate lingerie, tearing it from her with his teeth, then silencing her screams of protest with a languid glide of his tongue against her core. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed his hands against the lacy material. It was soaked through, and he could smell her desire for him. His mouth began to water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do what, Yen?” he smirked back as he circled the area around her center with small kisses. She moaned lightly and arched herself closer to his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said in a breathy whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started to kiss the white lace, and the taste of her against his tongue, deep and tangy, was too much for him. He bit into the delicate fabric and jerked his head. The thin lace gave way immediately. He grinned at the sight of her laid bare before him, glistening and flushed with need. This was his doing. This was all for him. He felt a wave of love and protectiveness wash over him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit Geralt! Do you have any idea how much those cost?!” she cried in false indignation. Geralt knew she loved him ripping off her lingerie as much as he did if it meant him feasting upon her. He also knew he’d fill the entire fucking estate with every type of panty imaginable if she wanted it. He’d do anything for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worth it,” he smiled, and he licked her, long and slow, from top to bottom, and she cried out. He focused in on her clit, pressing down on the sensitive little bud with his tongue and light nips of his teeth, while he wrapped his arms around each side of her to bury himself in her, practically lifting her bottom off the bed with his hunger for her. He thrusted his tongue inside her and she whimpered, grasping the sheets fruitlessly to find some purchase. He could feel her thighs trembling against his ears and he redoubled his efforts. He knew she was close. He heard her heart hammering inside her chest, felt her fingers give up on trying to find a hold and go instead to his hair, pulling his face into her as she ground herself against his mouth. She started shaking, and he focused in on her clit once more, knowing that the sensitive bundle of nerves will push her over the metaphorical cliff with the most intensity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tightened once and screamed aloud, and Geralt tasted his success on his tongue. He continued his ministrations along her core, taking her down from her orgasm, and she wilted against him. When he looked up after her, her eyes were soft, her hair wild, and her cheeks flushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at you,” she giggled lightly, her body relaxed and pliant. She dabbed his face with the sheets. “I’ve made a right mess of you, haven’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought of his jibe to Philippa a year back. “I guess I owe someone an apology.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’ll have to wait, Witcher. I’m not done with you yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <b>YENNEFER</b>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, she waved her hand and the rest of their clothing disappeared. Before he could get a word of surprise in, she flipped him on his back and straddled his hips. She took a moment to appreciate him, his cock heavy and full, the veins thick, the head glistening with precum.  She had imagined it more times than she could count in the 3 years they had been apart, her want so great she would be left aching even after she sought relief with her own hands. The worthless lovers she took could never compare to how she felt about Geralt. And now he was hers once more, and she’d never lose him again. “My turn,” she smirked as she sank onto him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been so long, </span>
  <em>
    <span>too long</span>
  </em>
  <span>, since she felt him inside her, and the stretch made her cry out. It was so close to pain it drove her mad with need, and as she started to move against him, he groaned and gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her soft skin. “Yen…” he moaned as he arched up into her, causing her to yelp as the angle deepened and he drove inside that much more. She leaned over to kiss him, and he palmed her breasts, pinching the nipple just so that made her gasp and grind herself harder into him. He threw his head back, and another upwards thrust of his hips while she pushed herself down had them both panting. She could feel that familiar heat rising inside her, like a point of light that contracts inward before exploding it’s release. From Geralt’s jerkier movements, his uneven breath, she knew he was close as well. He gripped her hips in a warning, soon enough they’d reach the point of no return, but she didn’t care. She chased that final rush of pleasure, desperate to feel his release inside her. “I love you,” he whispered, and she screamed aloud, feeling herself walk off the edge. He called out her name as she felt him harden and fill her, then they both fell away, lost to everything but touch and need for each other. Then everything went dark, and nothing mattered but him and her, together at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>She had no idea how long they lay there, but when her senses finally returned to her, she was laying against his chest, cuddled up to him as he ran his fingers through her hair. He looked so relaxed, the worry lines in his face seemed lessened somehow, and his smile was large and genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you,” he sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’ve missed you,” she responded back. She never wanted to leave his embrace again. He was the only man she ever wanted to hold her after they made love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So to whom do you owe an apology?” she asked as she casually played with the hair on his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philippa,” he hummed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Philippa?” She was curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt laughed. “Yes. I traveled up to Kovir a while back. It was long over between Triss and I, not that there was anything there to begin with, but it needed to be said aloud. I hadn’t seen her in over half a year, and when I got there, I walked in on Philippa eating her cunt like a rabid dog. I made fun of her at the time, but considering how I am with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>...well, maybe I was a bit harsh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer laughed. “You walked in on </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Oh darling, I am so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? That was the highlight of the past 3 years. I knew I’d never have to go to Kovir again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hated it there that much?” she asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hated that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>weren’t there. I’d be happy in a hut in Velen if you were there with me, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I can promise you there will be no hut in Velen. But Corvo Bianco...that I could say yes to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s breath caught and he pulled them both to sitting. “What about Ciri? Your position at court.” He hesitated for a moment. “Istredd?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She touched his cheek softly and tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. “Ciri is fully capable of leading Nilfgaard without my skirts for her to run behind. I’ve hated court since the moment I got there. My dream was to run away with you, Geralt, away from all of it; away from politics and the petty selfishness of petty people and to just be with you. And as to Istredd, he was nothing more than a placeholder for you, and one that I sent away the night of the party. It was a mistake to even invite him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s never been him, Geralt. It’s never been anyone but you, either. I love you, Witcher.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed her again, more needy this time. “Stay with me, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled back and smiled widely. “Yes,” she whispered, before he scooped her into his arms again, to fall together in thrills and moans, and find each other once more. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you haven't had a mille-feuille, do yourself a favor. Find a good french bakery and treat yourself!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Home: An Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The family is finally whole again</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Nothing like the satisfaction of tying up loose ends and doling out karma. ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>CIRI</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>As the soft-yellow morning light filtered in through the expansive floor to ceiling windows of her study, Ciri looked up from the treatise she was reading and sighed. After the banquet a few months back, Kovir and Nilfgaard had been working to establish strong trade agreements. Kovir was rich in natural resources that Nilfgaard needed to maintain their empire, but the harsher climate in the north also prevented them from growing enough staple crops such as wheat to support their expanding population. A trade deal would be lucrative for both sides, but Kovir had added some annoying contingencies, including a tariff on Nilfgaardian ships entering their harbors. This was apparently due to the additional expense of protecting the vessels from raiding ships originating in Skellige, but Ciri knew this to be a falsehood. Queen Cerys had drastically reduced raiding parties, focusing instead on diplomatic ties, so she was certain this was simply a ploy to get into the Nilfgaardian coffers, which ran far deeper than Kovir’s. For a moment, Ciri contemplated doing the same deal, tit for tat, but something stopped her. There was a chance for more if she played her cards right...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, a familiar sound of a portal opening interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see her mother, all smiles and flushed cheeks, and Ciri grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…?” she said with a little chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grin on Yennefer’s face was unmistakable. Ciri hadn’t seen her that happy in far too long. “So?” she replied with a small smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been gone for 3 days,” Ciri went on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has it been that long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop playing coy with me. You’re grinning from ear-to-ear and you’ve got more color in your face than I can ever remember seeing, so either you’ve taken a fever or you’re flushed from other ‘activities’. Are you and Geralt back together or what??”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, the portal, which had yet close, flashed gold as Geralt stumbled through, then shut completely. “I hate portals….,” he groaned, and Ciri squealed like a small child as she ran up to him. He caught her in her arms and spun her around like she was 10, and she cherished it. As he set her back down, he grabbed Yennefer by the waist and kissed her softly. “I missed you too much to stay behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Why do you think I left it open for you?” Ciri let out a joyous yelp and threw her arms around them both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FINALLY!!” she cried out, and Yennefer and Geralt wrapped her in their arms, all of them in a tight embrace. Ciri didn’t even attempt to hide the tears of bliss as she buried her head into Yennefer’s soft curls. “Finally,” she whispered, relishing being held by both her parents once more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Home.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The family stayed that way for a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <span>So how did it happen?” Ciri gushed. She was sitting on the edge of her writing desk while Yennefer sat on the arm of the sofa and Geralt leaned against a bookshelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did what happen?” Geralt replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what...the making up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Yen portaled in, we fought for a moment, and made up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri groaned. “Yes, but that was 3 days ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has it been 3 days already?” Geralt said, a shocked expression on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently,” smiled Yennefer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. Well, time flies when…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt!” Yenenfer interrupted him, and he laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri, I think you would prefer we let out the details,” Yennefer took over, glaring momentarily at Geralt. “Suffice to say that we worked through our differences.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That we most certainly did,” Geralt grinned as he stared at Yennefer, and though she shook her head, she failed at covering the small grin on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what is the plan?” Ciri asked, desperate to change the subject. “Geralt, are you moving here? I already have a position ready: master-at-arms. Our military would only benefit from learning swordsmanship from a witcher.” Geralt sighed slightly, while Yennefer turned aside, her breath catching, and Ciri knew. “You’re not staying, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer stood and walked to Ciri, who turned her head away. “My daughter, you know court is not right for me. At this point in my life, I just want to be away from all the pettiness and pointless squabbles and be with the people I love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>CIri swallowed down the tears that threatened to overtake her. She had gotten so used to her mother’s presence she hadn’t even imagined missing it. But she knew how miserable her mother had been these past years, how miserable Geralt had been. She could never deny them this dream, even if inside her heart broke at the thought of losing her mother’s constant companionship. “Of course,” she muttered, fighting the pain taking her breath away. “Of course I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer reached out and turned her cheek. “We’re a portal away, darling. Only a portal.” She looked at Geralt once and back to Ciri. “Ciri, thank you. Thank you for being there for me these past 3 years.” She wrapped her in another hug. “I love you,” she whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, Mamma,” Ciri forced out, hardly able to even speak. Geralt waited for a long moment before coming to them, putting his hand on Ciri’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Ciri, for inviting me to your birthday. If you hadn’t have done that, hadn’t have signed that card…” Geralt’s voice cut off. Yennefer pulled away from Ciri and leaned into Geralt’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she did, and she gave us our family back,” she smiled as she kissed Geralt’s cheek softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did,” he grinned back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri was silent. She knew she hadn’t invited him, but in the whirlwind that followed the party, she had forgotten about his unexpected arrival.</span>
  <em>
    <span> He said I signed the card...</span>
  </em>
  <span>And she remembered. She accidentally wrote ‘Ciri’ on Dandelion and Priscilla’s invitation. It was the only one she did that on, which meant somehow Geralt received that card. Dandelion wouldn’t have meddled, but Priscilla...she remembered how the troubadour sang about Geralt and Yennefer’s love affair, how she had watched Yennefer so intently the night of the banquet. Yes, it all fit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Priscilla. She’s the one who sent the card. She must have forwarded her invitiation to Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri would never be able to repay her</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at them, both radiant with contentment, and she knew she would never tell them the truth of Geralt’s invitation. “Of course I wanted you here. We’re a family, after all,” she smiled. “You both just needed a little push to remember that.” She glanced down quickly. “Do you plan to confront Triss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer shook her head. “I’ve spent the past 3 years beliving a lie she perpetrated, and that is enough. I plan on never thinking of Triss Merigold again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” Geralt replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just have a few things to pack, Ciri, and we will be headed back to Corvo Bianco. You know you are always welcome; it’s your home too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is,” Ciri smiled. “And I plan on a lot more dinners in the near future. Please prepare Marlene.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed at that. She is already cooking a feast every night even though it’s just Yen and me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Based on your earlier conversation, I’m surprised you even left the bedroom,” Ciri laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, one has to eat to keep up one’s strength.” Geralt smirked as Yennefer rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just go pack, the both of you,” groaned Ciri. As she watched Yennefer lead Geralt to her quarters - </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span> quarters now - Ciri felt her frustration mount. Triss had done this. Yennefer and Geralt never would have fallen apart had Triss not been interested in one final fuck with Geralt, enchanting him to get it. There had to be some form of retribution suitable for such a betrayal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ciri knew; she knew exactly what provision she would add to the Koviri trade deal: remove Triss Merigold from her position as head mage advisor to the king. She would recommend the position be taken over by Philippa Eilhart, a far more qualified mage who could easily oversee a successful trade negotiation. She would tell them that Nilfgaard looks forward to a long and prosperous relationship with Kovir, but would feel far more comfortable if a mage with greater experience handled the details of this future partnership. If Kovir wasn’t willing, the deal would be off entirely, though Ciri had no doubt they would be willing. She could recommend some far-off hovel in need of a mage advisor Triss would be better-suited for. A quick glance towards the map on the wall gave her her answer: Haakland. That would be perfect. She sat at her desk to pen the letter. She would send it immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps Geralt and Yennefer were above personal vendettas. Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Empress of Nilfgaard and Lion Cub of Cintra, was not. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>Yennefer</b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yen, good gods, how many trunks of clothing does one need?” Geralt groaned. “I’m going to need to expand the bedroom just to fit it all in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you shall, darling,” Yennefer called out as she rummaged through some trunks. “We are also moving it upstairs and adding a balcony.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Umm...what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then there’s my study, the expanded weapons room, I believe another bedroom in case Ciri comes to visit and others are here...well, Witcher, why are you just standing there blank-faced and mouth ajar? What did you think remodel meant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apparently not as much as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer grabbed the small box she had been searching for and stood up, walking over to him. “Yet somehow, you’ll survive,” she cooed as she bit his earlobe sofly. “And I promise to make up for any hardships you may endure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I said I was experiencing a hardship right now? Can you make up for it immediately?” He pulled her close to him, feeling the unexpected sharp corner of a hard box stab him in the rib when he did. “Oww,” he mumbled. “What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “My birthday present. I never was able to thank you properly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took it from her hands and, pressing the small button, opened the box. The song immediately filled the room. “Dance with me?” he said as he extended his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled as the memory took her. “But, there’s no one dancing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked back at her. “At the moment, but when we start dancing, there will be two, so it won’t be as awkward,” he winked at her, then sat box down and pulled her into him. “Dance with me, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You remembered,” she sighed happily as he began to sway her to the music. She leaned her head on his chest and pressed her cheek to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did. It was that moment I knew how much I loved you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yennefer grinned, remembering hearing his thoughts on that snowy dance floor. “It was the same for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt lifted her chin lightly. “I love you, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I love you, Geralt.” She cuddled back into him and closed her eyes, relishing the way his arms felt around her. Relishing how, after 3 years of feeling lost, she finally felt at home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so they both continued dancing, lost in the comfort of the other’s embrace, long after the music of the music box died away. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>FIN</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for sticking with me on this painful journey to the happy ending this family deserves! I hope you enjoyed the angst ride from hell here, and relish in the reunion and fluff. </p><p>As always, your support has kept me going. Thank you so much all of your comments and kudos. As a writer, it means the world to me that some are finding joy and maybe even heartache in my stories, as it means the work is reaching you on an emotional level. That's my dream as a writer, to create pieces that speak to the heart. </p><p>Thank you again for your support, and as always Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri forever!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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